In the mixedup land of Austen
by Annelikestowrite
Summary: A bet, a time traveler, and two people desperate to love each other. It could only happen "In the mixed-up land of Austen." Emma, P & P and Persuasion. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

_My name is not Jane. Even though I always thought it was a nice name. _

_And I have no claims to the estate of Douglas Adams or Dr. Seuss. Sigh._

_This one has been floating around in my head for a long time. It is going to be epic. Epic! However I won't be working on it much until Forever United is finished. Unless you want me to..._

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**Prologue**

Far away in the back quarters of the Indian Ocean, is a very small island. Not a charted island because it is uninhabited, save one creature who would have been offended to know that she was entirely inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. The lone sentient being was at this time a very irate, very wet hen. How she got there, of course no one knew, because no one cared.

Her breakfast had been ruined by a rather unfortunate run-in with an equally irate crab. She had made quick work of him but not before he had oh so cruelly pinched her in her soft feathery posterior, and although the rather rich innards of the offending crustacean were now very rapidly digesting in her stomach, her bottom had yet to recover. What she was unaware of was the great effect her actions would have on one Elizabeth Bennet.

Our story begins with the crab. Irate because his home on the nearby reef was being destroyed, he'd come ashore looking for a solution.

Because the chicken had eaten him, he hadn't been able to return to fix the problem.

Because the problem had continued, the water from the island had flowed just a little differently as it melded with one of the bigger oceans.

This had drastically changed the weather patterns in New Mexico. It doesn't often rain in the American southwest. Now it wasn't raining at all.

This alerted a local American Indian boy determined to make a connection with his ancestors. In this same spirit, he decided to perform a rain dance. So complicated were the steps and the hand motions that he really can't be blamed, the storm he danced for landed quite a distance off from where he had intended it to-a small college of little consequence except for those who were fortunate enough to attend it-by the name of Colorado State University.

The storm struck unexpectedly and caught one of the heroines of our tale quite unawares, unfortunately dressed in a sleeveless shirt and a short skirt, (that Spring _had_ been remarkably warm). She had been up late studying the last several nights for final exams and her immune system was vulnerable. She awoke the next day delirious with fever.

Unbenounced to her, she would miss a rather exciting Spring Semester Orientation that evening, for three events of significance occurred.

Firstly, Emma Woodhouse finally broke up with her cad of a boyfriend Frank Churchill, he'd had some tart on the side.

She'd also missed the looks that had passed between two people desperate to be loved by someone, a Miss Anne Elliot and a Rick Wentworth. Elizabeth was a sucker for romance.

Thirdly and probably of greatest importance at least to her, she'd missed the rare sighting of the elusive but oh so handsome Will Darcy, and the subsequent rejections that the braver coeds had met at his hand when they'd approached looking for a Friday night rendezvous. Elizabeth would have enjoyed this-she surely would have laughed at the look of consternation on the rejecter's face, and the looks of fury and embarrassment on the faces of those who had been rejected.

Yes, all because of a very irate, very wet hen with a sore bottom decided to eat a crab, Elizabeth missed out on a great many opportunities that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

"Something is knocking," was Elizabeth's first coherent thought. As was usual for her, her next thought was rather less cemented and along the lines of, "must be stopped, someone will die," though perhaps not quite as articulate as that.

"Now someone is bouncing…oh wait…that's me…" she thought as she blearily opened one eye.

"Emma, what are you doing?" she asked in a voice that anyone who knew her well, considered her voice of death.

Emma of course was no slouch, and for the most part she could hold her own with the slightly smaller, yet vastly more intimidating girl.

"Wake up sleepy head, I need your help."

Elizabeth sighed. When Emma asked for help it could never be for something good.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad."

Elizabeth nodded, one thing Emma was known for, was her extreme lack of subterfuge. She'd get to the point sooner, rather than later.

"Coffee."

"Right here," Anne said. The girls' more level headed roommate handed the desired beverage over. Every apartment had to have one right? Someone to scold Emma when her schemes went awry, someone to wash Elizabeth's dishes, someone to be the average, normal, nice sort of girl who everyone speaks well of but then forgets to talk to.

As the liquid dribbled down her throat, Elizabeth took a moment to contemplate, it wasn't long.

Unfortunately Emma was impatient, "So do you want to know or not?"

"Seeing as how I know I don't have a choice, because cutting out your tongue with a very dull spoon is considered illegal and quite punishable in this state, I suppose you might as well continue." Elizabeth said dryly as she continued to sip her coffee.

"Hey I'm quite delicate you know!"

"You're nearly six feet tall, and played girls rugby."

"Metaphorically Elizabeth, come on stick with me."

Elizabeth rubbed her face, "What is it you want Emma?"

"Well you know I dumped Frank…"

Elizabeth nearly dropped her cup, considering her addiction to the stuff this was no small tidbit of news. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday. He decided to traipse into the Spring Party with Jane Fairfax. Janey-Jane of all people. Stupid goody two shoes."

"Well good for you, solidarity my sister!"

"Yes…well back to my favor."

"There is absolutely no way on this green earth that I am pretending to be the jealous, pregnant, girlfriend again!" Elizabeth bellowed.

"Don't be silly, Jane knows who you are." Elizabeth sighed yet again. Sometimes Emma could be so obtuse. She was starting to regret not buying a lock for her door.

"I have a bigger cad in mind." Emma said smugly. "A real villain who needs to be taught a lesson."

"Nope, no, not happening, let me stop you there, never, nada, no can do…"

"You'll like this I promise."

"Somehow I doubt that." Elizabeth scowled and rolled her eyes.

"Bringing the biggest jerk on campus to his knees?" Emma quirked an eyebrow.

Elizabeth's ears perked, she couldn't help it. "Who?"

"None other than William Darcy?"

"Who the devil is that?"

"Probably is the devil," muttered Emma, "He's been breaking hearts for years. Stupid, white, rich, pretty boy."

"Emma, might I remind you that you're father owns a rather large house in the Hamptons."

"That's different," said Emma indignantly.

"And a winter chalet in Vail?"

"Hey that's only a cabin!"

Elizabeth snorted, "So says your 12 pairs of Jimmy Choo's."

"Touché."

"And the Porsche, Viper, and BMW that you were given for your 16th birthday because you couldn't decide between them?" Elizabeth couldn't help but add.

"Fine okay, you win. I get it; 'I'm spoiled and rich too.' Now will you help me or not?"

"'Or not' sounds about right."

"Come on Elizabeth. Sister solidarity! Death to tyrants!" Elizabeth glared at her, "Men are pigs?"

"I've never said that one!"

"No but you've thought it, along with half the women on this campus who've encountered the enigma that is William Darcy. He deserves it."

"Why don't you just puncture Frank's tires?" Elizabeth attempted to roll back under her covers. But Emma was holding her sheets tightly in her fist.

"Oh I fully plan on doing that too," Emma said cheerfully. "But Will is the king of the 'King of Pricks.' Take him down, the whole beast comes with it."

"That was a horrible metaphor."

"You get the point though, right?"

Elizabeth's pillow was calling her name. Now how to get rid of Emma, "So what exactly is it you want me to do, pants him or something?"

"No, I want you to date him."

"And how would this be beneficial?"

"You get him to fall for you, bring the great Will Darcy to his knees."

"You want him down on one knee?" Elizabeth shot back up again, choking on her own indignation, "No way!"

"Nothing so drastic, just three little words."

"I'm an idiot?" If only it was that easy.

"No!" Emma sighed happily, "'I love you.'"

"I love you too Emma, in a completely non-sexual way. But I don't think so; what exactly would I get out of this?"

"My undying respect?"

Elizabeth snorted. "Try again."

"I'll stop being a matchmaker."

"Something reasonable Emma, you know you'll never be able to follow through with that one."

"My 12 pairs of Jimmy Choos."

"You have the shoe fetish, not me."

"Okay, big guns it is, your rent free for one year."

Elizabeth did a swift burst of arithmetic. No rent meant she could quit her job, and get better grades. Better grades meant she would keep her scholarship. Or she could keep her job, save the money and go somewhere more exotic than her recent trips to Sheboygan to visit the folks. She glanced at the threatening rain clouds outside, and thought how warm it must be in Acapulco right now.

"And if I don't get him to utter the famous last words?"

"I give Bill Collins your phone number." Elizabeth cringed. William Collins was a nice guy. Kind of like a girl with a sweet spirit. Not someone you wanted to have extensive romantic contact with.

"One question and you better be straight with me. Why Darcy? And tell me the truth this time."

Emma curled up her lips, Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, "Okay, fine. He might have shot down my little shadow."

"Harriet?" Harriet was a friendly sort of girl, frankly there wasn't much else that could be said about. She was a pet of sorts for the girls and they were all quite fond of her. She didn't live with them, there wasn't room after all, but perhaps it was for the best. Harriet was a sweet spirit, not terribly attractive, or witty. The girls tended to overlook this, particularly because they didn't spend _that_ much time with her.

Elizabeth's nostrils flared, "Oh he's so going down!"

Emma smiled to herself. Then frowned. She probably could have saved herself all the trouble by saying that in the first place. She'd taken on Harriet girl to help her find her true potential, which in the society Emma had been raised in, meant the proper mate. When Harriet had taken a chance and approached Will, Emma had been mortified when he had shot her down. Harriet had taken it in stride, shrugged and gone back to talking to Robby Martino, a college dropout Saxophone player. It HAD been Emma's idea to talk to Will in the first place. Emma saw red, especially because Robby Martino just wasn't good enough for Harriet.

And who would ever be good enough for Emma? She had been so sure of Frank. Frank the adulterer. Before him had been Mitchell. Mitchell was idiot, eventually even she'd had to admit that. And Samuel. Couldn't forget about him. He was, mediocre. It was probably the most diplomatic way to say that Samuel wasn't a free thinker. His mother ruled him with an iron thumb and the same subservience was expected of his picked mate. Emma, to put it mildly, did not fit in from the moment she met the Chanel cloud that was Lucille Bourghess.

But finally she was starting to understand herself. Finally breaking free of the mold. This epiphany had come late last night as she'd found herself crying over 'the adulterer'. She'd been raised in the upper crust of society. She had attended cotillions and more coming-out parties for debutants than she could count, including her own. She was a lady, who ate her soup daintily without slurping and could dance the foxtrot or the waltz in a moment's notice. What she really needed, what she really wanted was a gentleman. Someone that opened doors, pulled out chairs, but most importantly someone who actually cared about her, not how much money she had or how big her…well…physical assets were.

Yes, definitely a gentleman, she was determined to not settle for anything less.

Out of the three girls, Anne had slept the best after winding down from her evening spent making eyes at a young man across the room-who couldn't seem to see anything but her-she'd dreamed about him and woken early, with symbolic birds singing at her window. The conversation between Elizabeth and Emma had been amusing, Anne didn't know William Darcy personally, in fact, she didn't know him at all. She felt a bit bad for him especially basking in her own bliss from the previous evening, but if Elizabeth was willing, there wasn't much she could do about it. And she loved Harriet as much as the other two, if she was hurting, surely the "dethroning of William Darcy" would make her feel better.

Elizabeth needed a plan. The only way to succeed, was a plan, the only way to have a plan was to observe her subject. Emma ever the social butterfly gave her the first lead. William Darcy only spent limited time among mere mortals. Daily, around lunchtime or so, he would appear in one of the more obscure quads sitting with a dour look on his face, trying to avoid human contact. Well female contact anyway.

"Hey Elizabeth," said Emma as she approached.

Elizabeth was thoughtfully gazing at William, with an open notebook in front of her, full of scribbles.

"What's that?" asked Emma motioning to the notebook.

"Don't laugh, I wasn't planning on it, but this guy is so complex, I started taking notes."

Emma snorted then regained her composure. "What have you got so far?"

Elizabeth consulted her notes briefly before clearing her throat. "First of all," Elizabeth said a bit nervously, "Is he gay?"

"Ha!", Emma expectorated before trying to hide it with a cough, trying not to draw attention to them. Especially not William who was sharp as a tack.

"No, he's not gay," she frowned, "At least I'm pretty sure he's not." That would really take the wind out of her sails if he was.

"Well, see here's the thing," Elizabeth said motioning to her notes, "He's been asked out by three different girls in the 20 minutes I've been sitting here, at least I assumed that's what they were doing, with the bitter looks on their faces as they hurried away after. He's had one girl constantly with him, trying to hang on his arm," she indicated said girl who was currently trying, well, it looked like from this angle she was trying to climb into William's lap, and being rebuffed quite vehemently. "I don't know," she continued, "I thought maybe he's gay."

Emma considered. She was pretty sure that there had been a girlfriend in the past, a significant relationship too. No it just wasn't possible, "If he was gay, I would know, trust me."

"Well obviously you know more than you told me." One perfectly manicured blond eyebrow rose.

"Not much I promise you. He doesn't go to parties, I'm not even sure he has friends here."

"Roommates?"

"I don't know anyone who knows where he lives."

"Who's the girl?" asked Elizabeth motioning to the female trying to nuzzle his neck.

Emma looked for a moment, studying the girl's features before comprehension dawned, "Carol, or Carla something I think. I'm not sure if she's a student or just a local. I've never had classes with her, I've never seen her with anyone but him and that is only occasionally, like she has to track him down just like the rest of us."

"How did you know about this place?"

"Oh I had a random Economics class over on this side of campus and I spotted Will one day, not many people know this is where he makes his daily appearance. He'd be mobbed if they did."

"Emma, I have to know, with such a juicy piece of gossip, why don't more people know about this?"

Emma was incredulous, "Don't you think I can keep some things to myself?"

"No." was the simple answer.

"Elizabeth I'm hurt."

"Yeah right, your skin's thicker than that. Out with it Emma."

"Fine."

She hemmed and hawed for a while.

"Emma."

"Okay fine, maybe I thought I would want a chance with him someday."

"Please tell me this isn't revenge for you too, I'm really only doing this for Harriet, the poor girl can't take care of herself."

"No I promise, just wanted it for future reference."

Elizabeth glared at her suspiciously for a moment, "Okay, well after much deliberation I've decided the best way to go about this."

Emma squealed, "Oh I'm so excited what are you going to say, what are you going to do?"

"Absolutely nothing. I'm going to let him come to me."

"And that will work."

"Yes, see while I've been sitting here, I've noticed something. If what you say is true…"

"He's not gay."

"Fine, if he's not gay, then there's very few reasons why he wouldn't be basking in the attention of his fans. The 3 girls were nothing special, average clothes, though they were pretty, they only had one thing in common."

"What's that?" Emma asked getting impatient.

"They were forward, came up to him trying to canoodle a date out of him. Now maybe that wasn't the reason that he said no. Maybe they weren't pretty enough, or rich enough-even I could tell that most of their clothes were off the rack."

Emma nodded, "Continue."

"That leads us to what's-her-name over there. Her clothes are obviously designer," Emma squinted and nodded in agreement, "She's quite attractive," Emma nodded again, Carol or Carla wasn't in the same class as her or Elizabeth the campus darlings, but she was definitely pretty enough to attract the attention of a decent percentage of the male population.

Elizabeth continued, "The only real characteristic she shares with the other three is her forwardness," she pointed as Carla tried to kiss will on the cheek, getting the back of his curly head instead.

"I have this feeling," said Elizabeth, "that he doesn't like forward girls all that much."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to let him come to me."

"Yes, you said that already," Emma said exasperatedly.

"And I actually mean it."

"I'm putting William Collin's number into my speed dial," Emma hissed as she rose to her feet.

"You do that," Elizabeth said distractedly. Her attention was once more on William. He really was attractive in a brooding kind of way. If only he would smile more.


	3. Chapter 3

**My story takes place during **_**Emma**_**, during **_**P & P**_**, and pre-**_**Persuasion**_**. I'm hoping Anne and Rick will get to stay together without the misunderstandings and separation. Let's see if Elizabeth and Emma can persuade her!**

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**Chapter 2**

Every morning at precisely 7:05 Anne Elliot would serve herself breakfast. Two eggs over easy, and a piece of plain wheat toast bread. She enjoyed such simplicity after years of living with her Auntie Russell and the older woman's eclectic and often expensive tastes.

She would sit perched on the edge of the overstuffed sofa, delicately cut her eggs into perfect triangular pieces, dap up the yolks with a bit of bread, and watch the morning news. It was a marvelous hour for her every morning, as her housemates were late risers. The morning show on the local ABC station was quickly becoming a favorite. Don and Rose reported the news fairly and with a certain amount of peppiness, that Anne had always envied in people.

And of course Lyle the weatherman was fairly consistent. Only occasionally did it rain when he said it would not, she wondered what he did in his spare time, or if he had much. The unreliability of Colorado weather probably kept him busy. Anne enjoyed thoughts like this, wondering about people and their motives. Though the relationships she had with her family didn't give her much faith in mankind, her roommates, and Lyle the weatherman gave her reason to hope. Perhaps one day, she could do the same for some other struggling young adult?

The bustle would start at around 8:15 as Emma would be the first to rise, dashing around the condo, lamenting the time, and forever wondering why she had signed up for an early morning lecture, again! At 8:55 shoes in one hand, and a tube of mascara in the other, Emma would leave, a cloud of body spray wafting after her.

In the midst of this activity, Elizabeth would drag herself from her room, yawning, and stretching. Elizabeth was easily ignored in the morning, provided that Emma hadn't eaten any of her precious cereal, _"Seriously Emma, you know if gets stale if you don't roll the plastic back down!" _She was not a morning person. She would growl at Lyle, growl at the commercials, and finally growl at Emma when she slammed the door too loudly. Then she would return to her room to putter about, or plan world domination, Anne was never sure which.

By this point, Anne's quiet morning was over as she herself would now need to be getting ready for the day. Her hair from her early morning shower would have since dried, and as was her habit would be pulled away from her face by a small clip save her bangs.

She had the smallest of the three rooms, but this didn't bother her much. Emma owned the condo, or rather her father owned it and so she claimed the master suite. Initially, the heiress wanted a house but after seeing the houses for sale near the CSU campus, she opted for a modern looking condo building recently constructed on the edge of Old Town. Elizabeth had moved in almost immediately, and claimed the second room. Anne had found the duo during her Sophomore year, after spending 2 semesters in the dorms. It seemed logical therefore that she would claim the smallest room, with its single window and overlooking the dumpsters. It hadn't bothered her then, and it didn't bother her now.

This particular morning she selected a sensible outfit from her smallish closet, a lightweight sweater and a pair of linen pants. Versatile just in case it rained. Or snowed. In May, in Colorado, that was always a possibility. And hey, Lyle couldn't be right all of the time.

She thought of her Auntie, who nearly had an aneurism when she announced her college plans. _Where on earth is Colorado?_ Her Auntie was from the olden days when no respectable college fell outside of the Original Colonies realms. Auntie's plans had involved Yale, Harvard (such prestige!), or in a pinch, NYU (at least it was in New York!). Some days, even Pennsylvania State would do. Anne had different plans; Colorado State had offered Anne a full scholarship. Meaning independence. She would never have to rely on anyone ever again. That had upset Auntie the most.

Anne pushed such unhappy thoughts aside, as she made her way out the door, making sure to call out to Elizabeth, "Don't forget your 10 o'clock lecture!"

"Dang it!" was the last she heard of Elizabeth that morning.

The walk to campus was pleasurable and she was glad at least she had listened to the weatherman. It was a Tuesday, the first day of her Tuesday/Thursday Anthropology lecture series. For Anne it was a General Education requirement, as she was a pre-law student. It was an exciting prospect for her, the first spring semester she had spent on campus, the first class she had optioned to take outside of her major studies. She was certain it would be an enjoyable class. She had no idea how right she was.

Halfway up the aisle, there sat a tall youth, perhaps a year or two older than herself. His hair was black and wavy, his eyes a matching charcoal. His skin was pale and contrasted nicely with his dark features. He was the boy from the previous evening. She recognized him immediately.

He looked up as well and directly at her. Though Anne was sensible in many aspects, she'd never seen herself as anything but moderately attractive. The youth saw a girl with almond colored locks, side-swept bangs, and large expressive green eyes. She had a pert nose, and pouty full lips. In short, she was a beauty and he sat transfixed.

She lowered her eyes from his and made her way up the aisle. Perhaps she would sit with him? But she didn't slow, and finally he decided to speak up as she prepared to pass his seat. "Would you care to sit with me today?"

His voice was perfect. Anne stopped dead in her tracks. She looked around her. The boy was talking to her. She almost said no, she was completely flustered, but her Auntie had taught her proper manners, "Thank you. That would be nice."

"_Nice?"_ Rick Wentworth thought to himself. _"Nice!" _No not nice; freakin' fantastic! Why wasn't she as affected as he was? He had inconveniently seemed to have swallowed his own tongue, yet this angel was calm, cool, and collected. At least alliteration hadn't failed him. His creative writing professor would be so proud.

The angel sat next to him and immediately opened her notebook to a clean page and ascribed the date in very neat concise lettering at the top. Rick looked down at his own scrawl, barely legible. He noticed her posture, perfect, her legs crossed at the ankles, her neck held high. Yet, she seemed perfectly comfortable sitting like that.

Anne was anything but comfortable. Her heart was beating so loudly-pounding in her ears-and from the odd way he was staring at her, she was pretty sure he could hear it too. Any moment she expected him to offer to drive her to the emergency student clinic. How embarrassing would that be!

Up close he was even more attractive, his hair glossy and hanging down to his ears. Usually she didn't appreciate the shaggy-haired style but on him it added an air of danger that was very attractive. She hoped he didn't remember her staring from the previous weekend.

There was something familiar about her. Suddenly Rick mentally snapped his fingers. Of course, the party on Saturday! Well at least that gave him an opening, "You were at the mix and mingle on Saturday, weren't you?" He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so accusing.

_Oh no, he had noticed her staring!_ "Um, yes," Anne was pretty sure she squeaked.

_Her voice was low and throaty, like Katherine Hepburn or Lauren Bacall his favorite black and white movie stars! _"I'm Rick." And then Rick realized what a dimwit he was. Why hadn't he thought of introducing himself in the first place?

"Anne." It was all she managed to choke out. She shoved her hand at him, for polite society dictated that they shake.

Her hand was soft and cold, and he held off engulfing it between his much larger, and much warmer ones, just barely. It wasn't that cold outside was it? "Your hands are cold." _Way_ _to insult her, idiot!_

"My mother always used to say that I had cold hands but a warm heart." She colored and pulled her hand away from his as soon as she realized what she had said.

"But not anymore?" His tone was light and teasing, there was no way he could know, but Anne couldn't help but feel slightly morose.

"She died a long time ago."

"Oh jeez…I'm so sorry!" he fumbled, even as tears filled her eyes. "You're crying? Oh man! Did you want to leave? I can take notes for you, get them to you later? I'm such an idiot._"_ The last was said in a pseudo voice.

Anne offered him a watery smile, "No. I'll be alright in a minute." She wished she could channel her roommate Elizabeth, or even Emma, and offer up something witty or flirtatious. But she was neither of them. "Thank you."

The 'thank you' had surprised him, he had expected anger, or coyness perhaps. Now he felt even worse. He was grateful that the lecturer chose that moment to enter the room. Anne turned to the front and he followed her example.

He quickly became engrossed as the professor wove a tale of the first hominids, first appearing 3.2 million years ago in modern Ethiopia Africa. It was the first progenitor of _Homo_ and _Australopithecus, '_Eve'-nicknamed Lucy after the Beatles song "Lucy in the sky with diamonds." What a contrast Lucy must have been! Bipedal but still arboreal, and from her came all of mankind. Rick was hooked. He barely acknowledged Anne at his side. Not until class ended, and he bent to retrieve his backpack.

A throat cleared beside him, and he looked up at her. _Was she to exact her revenge now for me bringing up such a painful memory?_

"Thanks for letting me sit with you today Rick. I'll see you next class?" He had barely nodded his head once dumbfounded, before he watched her dash away.

There! She had done it, and her voice had only caught once! She hoped he didn't notice.

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**So I wasn't going to post this, but I discovered that my story had disappeared from the P & P index. So I HAD to post another chapter to get it back up. *smiles***


	4. Chapter 4

**This one is just so much fun, I had to continue! For those of you asking for Knightley? He's coming!**

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**Chapter 3**

Mornings for Elizabeth usually began badly. It wasn't that she hadn't gone to sleep the previous evening at a reasonable hour, it wasn't that her mattress was lumpy or otherwise undesirable. If hard pressed, she really had no explanation. There was something about mornings though, blearily walking through the apartment, noticing the magazines that Emma had once again left across the coffee table. Slipping across the area rug that Anne had insisted on. Mornings were the time when Elizabeth remembered all of the wrongs that had been ever perpetuated against her. And however unfairly, she couldn't stop herself from being pissed off about them. This particular morning, she was grumbling about Lyle the weather guy. It had been HIS fault that she had been caught in that spring shower a few days before.

But Elizabeth wasn't built for unhappiness, and once she consumed her cereal, dressed herself, and washed her face, Lyle was all but forgotten. She had bigger things to think of this particular morning. An old beau, one who insisted that they could stay friends had asked her to lunch. It would be the first "friendly" outing they had done since parting ways. And she was genuinely nervous about it.

Charles Bingles was an extraordinarily happy gentleman. Even in the mornings. Elizabeth had popped in early one morning to see him, just to check if he was _ever_ cross, and he smiled and laughed like it was dinner time at his favorite restaurant, instead of 5:30 on a cold March day. He was too happy for her, she decided. She needed a bit of spice occasionally.

Like herself though Charles liked Mongolian BBQ, and the Hu Hot was a bit expensive for a college budget. So to lunch they would go.

Charles appeared to be nervous about something, "Alright Chuck, out with it." He never liked being called Chuck, it was sure to awaken him out of his stupor.

He cringed at the nickname but bravely plotted onwards, "I need a favor, Liz."

"Alright." She folded her arms, raised one eyebrow and waited.

"There's this dinner coming up, for the business school. It wasn't supposed to be any kind of a big deal, but now suddenly all these top notch CEO's are scheduled to be attending. It went from being a casual luncheon, to a black tie seven course dinner."

"You want me to be your date?"

"You're great at stuff like this Liz! What if I come off sounding like a bumbling idiot?" Which he frequently did when he was nervous. "Pemberley Publishing is going to be there. Pemberley!"

"Uh…"

"Oh didn't you know? The CEO's son goes here. Darbucks, or Dacry. No Darcy! That was it! William Darcy."

Wasn't that the guy that Emma wanted to destroy? Suddenly attending this dinner with Charles didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

She felt a twinge of guilt as she dressed a few evenings later. She was doing this for Charles, she told herself. She was doing this for Charles. But she knew the truth, deep down. Her enthusiastic "yes!" would not have been so enthusiastic if she hadn't known that William Darcy was going to be there. She really wanted another look at him, see what made him tick.

She thought of Harriet, somewhat socially awkward Harriet-with her loud giggle, and silly opinions. Who would dare offend such a sweet character? Charles would surely understand that she had other motives for attending. He liked Harriet too.

Emma called out to her as she attached her last earring, "Charles is here."

And indeed he was, looking quite debonair in his traditional tux, his hair brushed back from the temples. He grinned when he saw her, and she appreciated that he kept his eyes on her face, he had never been able to do that when they were dating. Perhaps there was hope for them yet. "You look lovely Elizabeth, thanks for agreeing to this."

"I'm not sure you really need me Charles; you clean up rather nice yourself. You'll have them eating out of your hand before the soup."

The dinner was being held in one of the mansions on the edge of Warren Lake, though the hor dourves were being served in a small English inspired garden overlooking the water. Small tea lights glittered from the dock, and the moon was full. It was an idyllic and romantic location; the air was pungent with lilac blooms, and a small water feature trickled languidly.

It was a beautiful setting and Elizabeth felt herself relaxing further to the gentle melody of the wind whispering through the trees. Charles wasn't clingy thankfully, he moved into the groups of the other business students easily. For her part, she meandered through the gardens enjoying the peace before dinner. She made sure to keep one eye on Charles though. He could be particularly dangerous when he was panicky. From where she stood, it seemed that he was doing quite well, then again, she hadn't seen any CEO's here yet.

When dinner was announced, Charles offered her his arm, and she could feel his muscles tingling beneath her fingers. "Don't be nervous, you're doing great."

"Those were just the other students," he dismissed her optimism, "The corporate moguls will be joining us now."

The dining hall was gargantuan with seating at a massive walnut table for 24. Dispersed along the sides of the room, were smaller tables, and most of the students began moving towards those. Elizabeth went to follow them, but Charles tugged on her arm, towards the table.

"But aren't we…?"

"No. I'm a graduate student so I've been invited to sit at the head table." His arm was really shaking now.

"Don't worry Charles. You'll be great."

"This is my whole future Liz, what if I screw up tonight? None of these guys will give me a chance ever again."

She pulled him slightly away, turned him to face her, "Their loss then." She stared him down, eyeball to eyeball, until he nodded.

Their seats were in the center of the table beside a dour looking woman, and a young couple. Charles hissed in Elizabeth's ear as she sat down, "That's Cathy Morland, head of Tilney Pharmaceuticals. I think I'm about to hyperventilate."

She squeezed his hand between hers, and tugged him down into his seat. "Just say hello, and introduce yourself. That's all she'll expect. If she wants to make conversation she will."

Charles gulped rather audibly, and Elizabeth withstood the urge to slap her palm to her forehead. Thankfully Ms. Morland remained undiscerning. "Charles Bingles," he finally said in a strong confident voice. A bit too strong actually, for several heads turned towards him including the one directly on Elizabeth's left…good grief!

It was William Darcy. She faintly heard Ms. Morland introduce herself to Charles, as her head began to buzz. He was here! He was right beside her. Was this fate or some kind of sick joke? She hadn't been prepared to meet him so suddenly and so intimately. He turned back to his own dining companion, who Elizabeth realized with a start was the girl who had been hanging off him outside the economics building. Well that was…unexpected.

"Excuse me?"

William turned to her a bored expression of loathing on his face. "Elizabeth Bennet." She stuck her hand out to shake. William looked at it like it was a repulsive snake.

"Charmed." And perhaps he would be just as 'charmed' to meet the dirty bubble gum attached to his shoe. She ignored his tone, as she was as woman on a mission, and she wasn't entirely sure that Charles would be up to the task.

"Yes I'm quite certain of that," she suggested with a hint of sarcasm. "Can you tell me if they will be serving shellfish this evening?"

The woman at the other side of William suddenly descended upon the conversation, "Isn't it a delight when the unwashed masses descend upon a sophisticated dining experience?"

"I'm so glad to have someone of _my_ intellectual level to chat with," Elizabeth shot back. Her tone was sweet and unassuming, and William's dinner partner had nothing to respond with without sounding particularly vulgar.

Elizabeth turned once more to William, "I am allergic to shellfish you see, and while Charles is usually quite attentive," here she motioned towards her own dining partner, "I can't expect him to be constantly vigilant in such company." Her smile was fond as she looked Charles over, deep in conversation with Ms Morland. William found it odd, and a bit refreshing.

His voice softened accordingly, "I believe the starter course is to be oysters."

"Well that will make it easy enough." She looked embarrassed to have interrupted his pre-dining experience. "Thank you."

He turned back to his plate, trying to avoid looking to his left at Carol, and not wanting to pay too much attention to this 'Elizabeth Bennet' on his right. When the oysters arrived, tastefully arranged in their shells, he couldn't help but watch awed as Elizabeth began cutting a few of them into tiny pieces. Her eyes scanned the room, then with the arm of a pro, she flung one piece of oyster into the large potted centerpiece on the table in front of her. Then another, then another.

"What are you doing?"

"Making it look like I partook of the shellfish. I don't want to offend the cook."

"The cook?" What did it matter? Why hadn't she said that she wouldn't want to offend her hosts? She looked at his confused expression and she felt that she must explain, "My friend Emma, invited me years ago to visit her and her father at their summer home (she omitted telling him that the home was in the Hamptons, it didn't matter really), and they served freshly caught shell fish for dinner. I explained to Emma and her father about my allergy, and they understood that I wouldn't be eating any of the appetizers. But the cook didn't hear of it. Poor woman was so put out, it took a long time to calm her down and explain. Therefore, I wouldn't want to cause any offense here, where I am a guest among many."

"Waiter!" Carol's voice was strident and annoyed from William's left. A tall neatly dressed woman approached, her hair wrapped in a twist at the nape of her neck, a calm pleasing smile on her face. Little did she know what she was about to encounter.

Carol didn't bother lowering her voice, "These shellfish are cold. They are to be lukewarm, exactly 67 degrees! Take them back." The waiter's smile faltered slightly, before she gathered up the plate and hurried away. Carol sat at her place, a smug little smile playing on her face. At least _someone_ knew their place. Will frowned at her.

Elizabeth kept talking as if she hadn't heard Carol, Will turned back to her, "It is a shame that I don't know _your_ name. I would be remiss if I didn't thank you for rescuing me." There was such innocence about her that he felt himself willing to oblige.

"William Darcy." He waited for the telltale signs that he'd long ago attributed to every female whoever met him. But she didn't swoon, she didn't laugh flirtaceously, she didn't even leer at him.

Her smile was polite, "Well, William Darcy, 'Thank you.'" She turned back to her own dining partner. She spoke in such lowered tones, that William could not distinguish the words.

Charles however heard every word, "You're looking a bit green Chuck."

"I think I might have insulted her." He gestured to Ms. Moreland who was now in an animated conversation with the female business student at her right.

Elizabeth felt bad that she hadn't been attending to his conversation. She should have been helping instead of flirting with William, "Charles, you are a charming, intelligent, business student, how could you possibly have offended her?"

"Nowhere in my research did it say she was married. She still goes by her maiden name!" Charles looked to be on the verge of tears, "I called her Ms. Morland instead of 'hey you,' and she icily informed me that she preferred Mrs. Morland, and her husband did as well."

It took some time to calm Charles down, unfortunately his melancholy lasted through the soup course. He hardly touched his gazpacho, and Elizabeth was so involved in cheering him up, that she didn't have any either. It was a real shame, because she loved gazpacho. She had just picked up her spoon, and prepared to take a bite, when she noticed it was gone.

"Aup!" She pouted.

Out of the corner of his eye, William had watched her trying to brighten Charles Bingles' countenance (he had finally recognized the fellow business grad student). She teased him, laughed with him, and finally distracted him out of his melancholy. William was impressed. Not once, did she look behind her to see if William was checking on her progress, like most other girls would have. Not once did she flick her hair, or laugh deceptively. William had never encountered such a woman before. Someone who seemed wholly uninterested in pleasing himself. And so the moment she returned her attention in the general vicinity of him, he found himself eager for conversation. "The waiter removed it," William informed her pointing to where the bowl had been.

"But I love gazpacho soup." She pouted pathetically.

"It was excellent." He teased gently.

"Perhaps next time, I'll have to insist that you share," she countered with a small smile. A salad of mixed greens and artichoke hearts arrived, and Elizabeth dug in immediately, "Well now I'm going to have to do something that will forever ban me from consideration as an elegant female."

"And what is that?" William asked between mouthfuls.

"I'm going to have to clear my plate."

Will couldn't stop the small guffaw that issued forth. He tried to distract himself by looking to his other side at Carol, who had taken two bites of the salad and pushed it away. "Such excellent food, I couldn't take another bite!" She had said nearly the same thing about the gazpacho.

After a hearty dinner, of which Elizabeth was true to her word, eating every bite, the party moved into an enlarged recreational room, with plush leather sofas, and comfortable chairs spaced to opportune conversation. In the corner was a wet bar, a bartender already taking requests. Nearby was a pool table, and on the wall was an antique dart board. Cues were out, and a new piece of chalk was dangling from a string beside the score board, but none of the students were courageous enough to move towards them. Instead they hovered in groups near the sofas and chairs, unwilling even to grace their depths with their student presence.

Elizabeth had no such compunctions, after her astonishing conversations with Will, (perhaps Emma had been wrong about him?) she was determined to make Charles a success, "Come along Chuck, let's see if you can beat me at darts."

"I'm supposed to be mingling." Charles hissed back.

"Yes, well, if you can manage to play darts without injuring anyone, then I think you'll be calmed enough to be strutting your stuff again."

Charles had to agree that she had a point. His palms were still sweating, and his heart still palpitating from his encounter with 'Mrs.' Moreland.

The game went well for awhile, according to 301 rules, Elizabeth's score was the lowest, but 137 was a rather odd combination of points and would be difficult to add up with shots. Charles wasn't far behind, he was playing quite meticulously and had 175 points. All he needed was a few well-aimed darts and he would be the easy victor.

Without warning, they suddenly had an audience including Mrs. Moreland who uttered a "Well done Mr. Bingles," as Charles prepared to take his second shot.

He blanched, choked, and the dart flew wide. Not a sound was uttered as it flew across the room, towards the plush leather sofas and right into the arm of Carol Eleanor Hurst. She sucked in a deep breath, and screamed for all she was worth.

Elizabeth and Charles charged towards her, and Elizabeth swatted her hand away, just as Carol's hand prepared to pull out the dart. "Get away from me, you Cretans!"

"We need to get you to the hospital. You won't want to pull out that dart, it might have hit an artery." Elizabeth informed the fuming woman.

"How dare you tell me what to do?" She was trying to sound authoritative, but her voice was whining as she tried to talk through the pain. "I will be perfectly fine."

"You're a premed student as well then?" It was spoken as if she really expected Carol to say "yes."

"Well!" Carol sputtered. This upstart was a medical student?

"Come along! Charles and I will drive you, it's the least we can do."

After sputtering, and insisting that William be able to accompany her, to which request _he_ refused, Carol was finally bundled into the front of Charles' Toyota Camry, and off they drove. Elizabeth felt sorry for her, and a little miffed at William, no matter how successful her conversations had been with him. Carol was his date for the evening and he had readily abandoned her. After spending 2 hours in the emergency room, while Carol dictated and screamed at all of the attendings, Elizabeth changed her opinions. Perhaps, a little bit less than the "least they could do," would have been a better idea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

It all started with a glass of orange juice. Cool to the touch, condensation droplets slithering down the soda lime compound containing freshly squeezed citrus with the pulp removed. A few ice cubes bobbed about innocently.

Emma had planned on drinking it. Just as soon as she returned to her seat in the corner booth. She was a lady, and therefore patient. She would wait until she was seated before she partook.

A rush of color flew across her path. And then something cold and wet splashed across her front. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" The rush of color spoke. It was a girl, probably just a little younger than herself, dressed quite well-Emma had to admit-wearing a blue halter dress with tiny white daisies, and a matching blue wrap. But the hair! It was plastered to the girls forehead, and she was trying desperately to wipe it out of her eyes.

Emma could see it raining outside. She touched her own perfectly coiffed tresses. Some people couldn't afford umbrellas she supposed. "It's perfectly fine," she said stoically.

"But your sweater! It's cashmere isn't it?" Emma finally looked down. Yellow in this instance did not look good with pale pink.

The poor girl look so forlorn, that Emma forgave her immediately. Someone so sweet and bumbling. Perhaps…

Emma knew that the secret to life was having friends. She adored her flat mates. Elizabeth for her often caustic wit, and Anne for her gentleness. They were her best friends. And like anyone who thinks well of themselves, she suspected that _she_ was their best friend as well.

Of course she wasn't friends with everyone. That would be uncouth. Like the pimpled kid who worked at the counter of the student center's ice cream counter. What a demeaning position! At least Elizabeth worked somewhere relatively sophisticated. She was a shift manager at the student clinic. Emma didn't like to think about her friend's profession however. Because that would invariably lead to thoughts of other more undesirable positions, like the boy at the ice cream counter. What if Elizabeth had chosen to work there instead? She wasn't so sure she would have been able to remain friends with her.

She admitted that it had been wrong to have invited Elizabeth to her summer home in the Hamptons. At the time she thought that _she_ could have benefitted from her tutelage. She was wrong. She wasn't sorry to be wrong either. Emma had many flaws, one of them was not being able to admit when someone else knew better. Elizabeth had fit rather gracefully into Emma's life, and among Emma's acquaintances.

And so, Emma accepted her as a friend rather than a project and moved on. She couldn't help but believe that with her place in the world, she could be of some use to others. She knew from the moment she had met Harriet in that small café, with orange juice running down her legs and into her shoes, that she was made to be the girl's champion.

Harriet had seemed the willing pupil too, and Emma had decided after months of planning that she was just the sort of girl who would be perfect for William Darcy. Unfortunately that nincompoop thought he was too good for the likes of Harriet Smith. Well _he_ would be sorry when he saw what kind of man she could attract.

Desdon Hamish?

Kenneth Cole?

Perhaps Gunderson West III?

Harriet was such a sweet sort of a girl that Emma was sure that any one of them would want to date her. And William Darcy would learn his lesson! Thankfully, Elizabeth thought just as well of Harriet as she did.

Emma didn't want to think about the details, so instead she concentrated on happier things. It was spring time, and Emma adored the spring. Being a horticulture student guaranteed that. Her window was open this morning as she readied herself for class, and she could smell the crab apple blossoms. There was a slight chill in the air reminding her of home. With that same spirit, she dressed herself in a long fluffy skirt and a cardigan sweater set. She would be an oddity among the other horticulturalists who chose to dress in jeans and t-shirts, but she didn't much mind. She _was _different from them. It was important to retain some sense of rank occasionally.

She was tying up her hair into an attractive sort of a bun, when she happened to notice the time glaring back at her in the bathroom mirror, "Oh fiddlesticks!"

There was no time for breakfast, and so she grabbed a Pop Tart, and dashed out the door. Her housekeeper would have had a heart attack is she'd known what Emma subsisted off of these days. And she wouldn't understand that there was little time for Emma to eat anything better than pop tarts, Cup of Soups, and takeout.

Emma never had the time that Anne had when walking to campus. Though she proclaimed to enjoy nature, she never had a moment it seemed to really relish it as she passed it by. Classes began too early in the morning. And so it was, that she found herself walking briskly down Masen street not able to relish the cool breeze, or the way the roses swayed enchantingly in that breeze. From her current position it was still an easy 5 minute walk to the University Greenhouses. She was taking a senior course in Plant Propagation.

And she was already late to it! Dr. Greery hated it when his students were late.

She was just passing Johnson hall its corridors already bustling with eager Environmental Management Students when she was greeted with a very odd sight indeed. A young man, approximately her age stood in black trousers, a tucked in lawn shirt, a waistcoat and a long overcoat. A cravat was tied at his neck and he had a top hat on his head. He was looking around him beseechingly, trying to get someone's attention, but like Emma, they were probably late to class as well, for they hurried by him barely given him a moments notice.

Emma froze, what on earth? At that moment, he saw her staring and rushed over to her. "Pardon me Madam, I know we haven't been properly introduced and it is completely against etiquette to approach a young unmarried woman such as yourself, but I am in desperate need of your assistance."

"Uh," she looked up and down him again, as he waited for her to speak, his eyes imploring, his hands tucked neatly behind his back.

"It's dreadfully rude of me, I know, perhaps we could make our own introductions. George Knightly is my name."

"Emma Woodhouse." Somehow he had managed to snag one of her hands in between his and bowed over it.

"Pleasure."

_It sure was!_ Emma thought privately. His grey eyes twinkled at her, underneath a curly mop of light brown hair. His lips were full, and currently tugged into a small smile. His speech was smooth and cultured, and perfectly British. Could he be a new exchange student?

"Now, Miss Woodhouse, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the nearest hackney? I seem to have lost my way."

_What on earth was he talking about? _"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What is a hackney?" _Maybe that's what the English call a telephone?_

"A carriage for hire. I am in desperate need, I must get to the House of Lords before noon."

"Uh…" she said again, there wasn't much else she could say, and for a long moment she just stared. Finally she found her voice, "There _is_ a bus stop right around the corner, and I think you can call for a cab in the Administration Building that is through those trees over there. I haven't heard of the House of Lords though. Is that some type of club or café?"

He pulled himself up to his full height which put him at eye level with Emma, "It is the staple that makes Britain such a civilized society. The upper house of Parliament. I was to make a speech today."

Emma went against all of her years of debutant society, she snorted and rather loudly too, "You're going to be exceptionally late then. This is America."

"The Rebellious Colonies?"

"We prefer the United States now." Emma had long ago forgotten about her class, this Mr. Knightly was far too entertaining. "Tell me, where are you from exactly? I don't believe you said."

"Surrey England, I reside in Donwell Abbey. I grew up there. It is modest when compared to the other great homes of England, but I was fond of it."

He looked around him again, clearly confused. "I was on my way to London, it's only 15 miles away. I stopped at an inn, right outside of the city. And suddenly here I was."

She looked at him, long and hard before she burst out laughing. "Yeah right! Where's the camera? What kind of imbecile do you think I am? Obviously if you really traveled from England to here you would have taken an airplane."

"What's an airplane?" She abruptly stopped laughing, particularly when she say the look vast innocence on his face.

"You're serious!" But that would mean? Something that Emma couldn't quite yet fathom.

"Madam, I seldom jest." His voice was stern. _Yes I could believe that, if I was certain that this wasn't some type of farce!_

"But that's impossible." And it had to be, Emma's subconscious reasoned. She looked around surreptitiously for a camera?

"What is?" Complete innocence. _Oh he was good! So very good. _

"How could you not know what an airplane is?" Just then a bell rang from the nearby Johnson Hall. Emma had utterly missed the first day of her Plant Propagation class. "Oh never mind then, come along with me."

This conversation was getting entirely too tiresome. She'd have to get rid of him, whoever he was. Drop him off at the Administration Building where there was a free access telephone and then she just might be able to make it to her next class. He followed after her completely silent, thankfully. She was moving rather quickly, and she hoped that he wouldn't have any trouble keeping up. She might be a snob, but she wasn't vicious. Well not too vicious anyway. When they finally did arrive, he was breathing heavy, and she took some sadistic pleasure out of that. She wasn't even winded herself.

He stepped in front of her and then did something she hadn't expected, he opened the door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. A man had never done that for her, except her father. She was touched. But it couldn't mean anything. Mr. Knightly was crazy.

She led him towards the arboretum, where there was a small desk and chair. "This is the telephone. You can call for a cab from here. It was very nice meeting you Mr. Knightly, good day."

He looked at the phone. He looked at her. He looked at the phone. "I'm afraid I don't understand. What am I to do with this?"

"It's a telephone. What you haven't heard of one of those either?"

"London in 1806 might be at the forefront of the fashionable world, but I afraid I have never seen one of those before." He pointed at it as if it was some type of unknown animal preparing to bite his finger off.

"1806? You think you are from 1806?" She backed away from him slightly. Crazy people were entirely too unpredictable. _And this guy was taking the cake!_

"I beg your pardon. I don't think, I know! I was born George Harrison Knightly at Donwell Abbey, 1781. This morning before I departed from home was the 26th of May, year of our Lord 1806."

"I think I need to sit down." Emma stumbled towards a chair at the wall and sat down. She couldn't be blamed for her head lolling forward in between her knees to prevent her from hyperventilating. "Oh gosh, it's not possible. Time travel? He's crazy. My father always said that it was important to help strangers in need, but this is ridiculous."

"Your father sounds like a wise man," a voice sounded from directly in front of her.

She jumped startled. "Kindly refrain from the intimacy of whispering so close to me, sir!"

"You look truly ill madam. Can I get you something? A glass of punch, or wine perhaps?"

"I'M ill? You've just jumped out of the Looney bin! I'm going to leave now. Enjoy your stay, or whatever." Emma stood, straightened her shoulders, and stomped away. "Just a bad dream. Just a _bad_ dream. A bad _dream_." She sighed loudly, _yes,_ "I feel better already."


	6. Chapter 6

**Please review!-Hey everyone else is doing it. And before you say anything, "it would depend on how tall the cliff was." (;0**

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**Chapter 5**

The first time, Elizabeth found William on campus, he was able to shrug it aside as concern about Carol. Especially because the first words out of her mouth were, "Have you heard how Carol is feeling?"

He had answered, and Elizabeth had said all that was appropriate. She didn't seem overeager to leave, and so he had invited her to sit with him.

"So are you really a pre-med student?"

She smiled, "Caught that did you? Yes I am, this is my final semester. I've already taken the MCAT and did fairly well. I'm not going to get into Harvard or Stanford, but Northwestern has expressed an interest, and I've had a couple of other acceptances."

"Do you have a field yet?"

"No, something in general surgery I think."

"Not a lot of money there."

"I've never been very interested in green pieces of paper anyway."

He furrowed his brow as he looked at her. Not interested in money? _Everyone_ was attracted to money accumulation. Women came on to him because they were only interested in him as an heir apparent.

"I see I've offended your sensibilities, Mr. Business student?"

"No indeed." And then he had changed the topic to lighter subjects.

That she should find him a second time, left him feeling highly suspicious. To be fair, she was the same as she ever was. "William, fancy meeting you here!"

"This is where we met last time," he had countered, not an ounce of humor on this face.

She recoiled a bit at that. Up to this point, she had never been exposed to his rudeness. She and Emma had had a rather loud 'discussion' the evening before. Why would Emma want to ruin someone as agreeable as William Darcy?

And she had just begun liking him. Could she have been wrong? "How have you been?"

"Studying, preparing to go back to Boston to work with my father." His tone was emotionless.

"Well we'll miss you around here." Her voice seemed genuine, but he worried that it was not. More than likely what she would miss would be his bank account possibilities. She was probably calculating his precise net worth at this very moment. He had thought about what she had said about not being concerned with money. She probably didn't want to sound over eager. Throw him off the scent as it were. He would not be fooled!

Neither regretted it when Carol stumbled upon them. She was dressed to the nines as usual, her hair perfectly styled in soft waves down her back. As was always her attitude, Carol had prepared carefully, thinking that perhaps this was the day that Will would choose to further their relationship. She was attractive, accomplished, and doused in her favorite scent. What else could he want?

She was shocked therefore when she saw him standing with _that_ girl from a few evenings before. She looked between the two of them flabbergasted. She hadn't been aware that they knew each other! And she wasn't happy about it. Then she saw something that she was sure would only lead to her advantage, "YOU have been to New York?"Carol asked as she eyed Elizabeth's 'I 3 New York' shirt.

Elizabeth nearly choked having not expected to be addressed by such a character. Especially after their last encounter, "Yes, you could say that."

"Though to really have been to New York you have to immerse yourself in the culture. Romantic walks in Central Park, trips to The Met, shopping 5th Avenue. You know get a feel for the local flavor. Not just be a tourist." Although it was clear from how high her nose was in the air, she was sure that Elizabeth did not know.

Elizabeth smiled softly, "I suppose that is true, such visits to its landmarks are necessary. Though I know I at least have grown tired of the pretentiousness of 5th Avenue."

Carol's talons painted a deep red, flew to her throat as if she had been slapped, "How could you say something so vulgar."

"Very easily, it was part of my route walking to school every morning. There is only so much a child can take."

She left Carol, frankly, clucking like a hen. Clearly William was in a snit about something. She wasn't quite willing to write him off yet. She remembered with a jolt of guilt, the bet she had made with Emma. That had been the whole reason for their fight the previous day.

"_Emma? I want out. I don't think William deserves to be humiliated like this."_

"_What are you talking about?" Emma was very confused._

"_He's nice. A bit reticent; but nice. Perhaps you got your facts wrong."_

_Emma's eyes narrowed, "I didn't get them wrong. I was there. Harriet told me exactly what he said. Believe me it was awful." She shuddered from the memory._

"_I shouldn't be doing this too him."_

"_Oh and you'd prefer that I gave Collins your number?"Elizabeth couldn't back out now- William deserved this kind of lesson!_

"_Oh come on, Emma!"_

"_That was the agreement."_

"_I can't believe I ever agreed to this." Elizabeth managed to grind out._

"_Believe me; you'll be thanking me in the end."Her tone was smug._

After some more yelling and nasty name calling, the girls had parted to their corners, or rather their respective rooms. Elizabeth had sought William out, eager to prove Emma wrong. He hadn't helped any with his contrary attitude. She would give him a few days to come to grips with whatever was bothering him.

Carol was rather frustrated to be silenced so efficiently by that 'Liza Bennet girl.' As soon as Elizabeth had walked away, she began abusing her. Imagine such a woman sullying her beloved city.

"I didn't hear her say anything against Denver?" Will was confused, and a bit upset that Carol had managed to get rid of Elizabeth so easily. She must be a money grubber after all.

"I might be from Denver, but my heart will always been in New York."

_Sure it will_, William thought to himself. She'd only descended upon the city once a few years ago. She had been there for a total of 6 days before she had claimed that the pollution was doing vile things to her skin. She hadn't bothered remembering it until she had heard that William was from nearby Boston. Then it was practically all she talked about. He remembered speaking to her brother about it.

"_Carol is certainly enthusiastic about New York?"_

"_The city?"_

"_Yes, what else would I be talking about?"_

"_Carol's been talking about New York City? What did she say?"_

"_She talked about how much she loved shopping on 5__th__ Avenue, walking along the East River, and the views from the Empire State building."_

_Arthur snorted, "Did she mention the bird that took a crap on her head, or the fact that her credit card was denied when she tried to make her first purchase on the famed 5__th__ Avenue?"_

_William nearly choked, "What?"_

"_Yeah, in the end, she stayed less than a week. My Dad blocked all of her credit cards once he found out where she was. She was skipping out on school finals."_

"_Less than a week?"_

"_She always said it was the worst trip she'd ever been on. Couldn't stand the place."_

"_But then why would she…"_

_Although Carol didn't accredit her brother with any smarts, Arthur could be particularly spot on when he was paying attention, "She knows you're from Boston."_

"_Boston is a long way from New York City."_

"_Thank goodness for that!" Arthur chortled._

"_Yes indeed."_

But Carol hadn't let go of her recent New York obsession. Even when William reminded her that he was from Boston. Even when he reminded her that she was from Denver. Out of respect for her brother, he didn't dare offend her by being blunter. Like bringing up for example the pigeon who'd well…you know. He'd taken to calling him Serendipitous Sam in his private thoughts.

In a way he was grateful to Carol and her obviousness. He knew where he stood with her at least. She was the greatest money grubber of them all. He felt he might be in danger of showing Elizabeth Bennet too much attention.

He didn't see her for a few days. Elizabeth, not Carol. He would never be able to get away from her. Carol, not Elizabeth.

Perhaps Elizabeth had given up? He felt…disappointed, no that couldn't be it. It was like when you're reading a novel, something mysterious and suspenseful, and you think you've been really clever, working out the ending and then it turns out exactly as you expected it to. Whatever _that_ was. _That_ was how he felt.

He received a care package from his housekeeper which of course led to Carol being superfluous in her ravings about his family, whom she had never met, save for a quick peek at his mom when he'd dropped her off at the airport. He wasn't even sure why Carol had been there. She claimed to be returning from a trip, but he had seen her the previous day around campus. Fast trip. And that led him to his current predicament.

"Oh! Your dear little sister, how is she?"

Gina was not little, and at the moment not very dear. Carol of course didn't know that. "She's fine."

"The next time you speak to her, you must tell her that I long to see her." Considering that the next time he saw her she would just be released from her obligatory rehabilitation house, he didn't think he would bother.

"Sure Carol. You know I'm feeling hungry, I think I'm going to go to that burger place that Arthur has been talking about lately." This got him away from her for two reasons. Carol was a staunch vegetarian, and she never took food recommendations from her less than cosmopolitan brother.

There was a _Five guys_ just around the corner from campus, there to cater to the whims of poor college students. It was also one of the few restaurants open 24 hours a day meaning you could get a bacon cheeseburger loaded with almost a daily intake of calories anytime you had a craving.

And William was craving something beefy after spending most of his free hour with Carol the carrot stick.

He was surprised and slightly alarmed to see Elizabeth Bennet sitting in a booth and eating a hamburger in a most unladylike fashion. Why there was even ketchup on her nose! _Watch it Darcy, you're starting to sound like Carol._

That was enough to make his shudder. Of course that also could be because he'd had to watch Elizabeth shove a handful of fries in her mouth and chew hardily.

_How could you ever be attracted to that?_ He would never realize that he had spoken aloud.

He didn't see the look she shot him, first confusion, then anger, then finally some type of understanding.

She took a swig of her soda, wiped her mouth and her nose, and then squared her shoulders. So Emma was right after all. Her day was suddenly looking up, and guilt free. She marched up to him, got right in his path and, "Hello William. So you've descended amongst the masses?"

It was the words that he couldn't quite figure out. She spoke much as she had ever before, her tone bright, innocent, but there was something about the words. She had said something similar to Carol hadn't she? He did not want to be lumped into the same unfeeling category as Carol Hurst. And from the light glint in her eye he was sure she was laughing at him!

"I'm just here for a burger."

"Yes their burgers are excellent."

"I saw you…enjoying one."

"I'm surprised that you noticed me, what with the altitude." That one was spoken decided chilly, and he couldn't miss her meaning. But why did she think he was a snob? Just because he had a healthy respect for himself? His father built their fortune out of nothing! He was one of the top graduate students in the college! He was destined for great things!

"What is it that your parents do?" He asked suddenly.

She smirked at him. _Trying to prove that you are better than me, eh Mr. Darcy?_ "I've never credit their successes or failures as my own."

"So they're unemployed then?" That explained a lot.

"No, my father is a small town doctor, my mother is a retired law professor."

Or not. He fumbled for a moment. That explained why she wanted to be a doctor. And her mother was a professor. Of law. Explained why she could put him and everyone else around her in their place. But sadly it didn't lower her at all in his eyes. "Retired you say?" He couldn't help his voice from sounding unusually high." He felt like a middle-schooler again, right before his voice changed.

"Yes, my parents married later in life, my mother retired to be a homemaker." She looked confused as to why she had felt compelled to share such things with him.

He couldn't find no fault with that. His mother wasn't employed except for as a professional socialite. He would never taste her homemade peanut butter cookies, or be fed her chicken noodle soup when he was sick. He had never resented her for it, easily accepting their housekeeper and cook Mrs. Reynolds as a stand in mother. Until now.

He whirled to the counter before she could see the look of sadness in his eyes. He wouldn't dare show the enemy his fear. He didn't see her walk out, but he did hear the doorbell ding. It had a certain finality to it. He tried to ignore it.

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**Thoughts?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Anita Misra has asked if I have abandoned this.-No! **

**She also requested an update.-I put this together today, just for you, Anita Misra!**

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**Chapter 6**

It was Thursday. Time for the second Anthropology lecture. Anne was nervous. Incredibly nervous. If things got any worse and she would be in danger of popping a blood vessel.

Or two.

Or five.

She found herself taking her own exaggerated pulse as she stood over her eggs that morning in the quiet of the kitchen. Her wrist was pulsating hyperactively. What if he didn't want to sit with her? What had she done, giving him no choice like that, _"I'll see you next class!"_ He had nodded, at least she was pretty sure he had. It was all a bit muddled. What if he was only flicking the hair out of his eyes? What if he had a nervous tick?

_Anne you're being ridiculous!_ The voice in her head sounded awfully like her roommate's. Not always the most grounded of individuals, Elizabeth was occasionally dead on. And she _was_ brilliant about a lot of things. "Elizabeth is right," she muttered to herself. "You are being ridiculous."

She ate her egg, and tried to listen to Lyle the weatherman's antidotes. But she couldn't seem to concentrate. Rick's hair was much darker than Lyle's. And it looked softer too. She wondered what it would feel like to stroke her fingers through it. Wrap one wavy piece around her slim fingers.

"_And the weather today will be nice and sunny! Break out your shorts and enjoy some time outside!"_ Lyle's excited voice rung out from the T.V.

Anne frowned. She didn't own any shorts. Not since Kevin Clements in the sixth grade had told her that her legs were too pale and thin to ever be attractive. He had amused himself that year by calling her Chicky. As in 'chicken legs.'

She had a nice skirt though. A soft cotton A-line that fell just below her knees. She looked at herself critically in the mirror. Her legs didn't look too ridiculous. She hoped. The first shirt she grabbed was a halter style and tied around her neck. Her shoulders were quite nice she had always thought, soft and toned from all of the heavy Law books she carried daily.

It showed an awful lot of skin…

What if he thought she was trying too hard! Elizabeth was already gone for the day, and she wasn't sure she wanted Emma's opinion. She pulled the halter top off quickly. Better to be conservative. She found a cap-sleeved shirt instead. If she was going to be able to gather enough courage to sit by Rick, it was important that she at least be dressed comfortably.

She looked at the clock. 30 minutes until class began. She rubbed her tongue over her teeth. Perhaps re-brushing them would be a good idea? She breathed into her hand. Minty fresh.

She fiddled with her hair, pulling it out of its clip, folding it behind her ears. It had dried a bit wavy today since she had been so distracted. Her roommates often wore their hair wavy, in the latest style, but she had no idea how to do such a thing. She smoothed her fingers through it, but that only seemed to be making it worse. Finally, she sighed and pulled it back as usual.

She leaned towards the mirror, examining her face. Her Auntie had told her that she didn't need to wear makeup since she had a natural beauty. She hoped Auntie was right. Her eyes always seemed so bland to her. Greenish-blue, nothing special there. Her nose was small, and her lips though un-chapped were ridiculously big. She added some mascara to her eyelashes. Maybe that would make her eyes look better. They certainly looked bigger.

_Anne, you're being ridiculous!,_ came the voice again. She turned before she could critique her appearance any longer and quickly grabbed her book bag and left. The walk to class, usually enjoyable for Anne seemed extraordinarily short today. Suddenly the Clarke building was in front of her its windowed walls shining innocently at her. And she was ten minutes early. She tried to walk slowly in through the front doors, and plod carefully up the stairs, but she still made it to the classroom with 8 minutes to go. One thing she knew, it was better to not seemed over eager, especially if the boy wasn't interested. At least that was what Auntie always said.

Her eyes widened when looking through the open door. There was Rick, sitting in the same seat he had been in the last class, with a bored frown on his face. He was idly twirling a #2 pencil between his long fingers. She was flustered and unsure of what to do. Did she go in? Come back later? Suddenly she wasn't ready for this. Completely unprepared! Her voice seemed to have retreated to somewhere in the region of her stomach. And it refused to come out.

She had just turned to go, "Anne! You made it." She looked back around slowly, her eyes timid. Rick was grinning at her, already waving her to the seat beside him.

Her own smile grew, "Hello Rick!" She climbed up the stairs, carefully watching her feet. It would be too embarrassing if she fell on her face in front of him! She sat down, and pulled out a notebook, and a pen.

"How are you?" He asked.

She looked at him closely for a moment. His eyebrows were tugged down, and he was looking intently at her. _He really wanted to know!_ "I'm well." She tucked one errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm a little nervous about this class though. I'm better with facts instead of theories."

"Oh. It's always been the other way around for me. I'm a philosophy major."

"So this stuff is perfect for you, with your head in the clouds," she ribbed him slightly. He looked at her for a long moment, and her face started to grow hot in embarrassment, _what if he didn't understand that she was joking?_

Finally, one cheek rose lifting his lips into a smirk, "Yeah I guess it is. We could uh…" His hand rose to his neck, rubbing the skin back and forth, "If you ever need a study partner. I'd…um…It'd be fun to have someone to study with," he finished very quietly, looking at her shyly from beneath his fringe.

"Are you sure? I might hold you back." _And her other class would be unusually tough this quarter._

"What are you majoring in?"

"I'm pre-law," She admitted a little subconsciously.

"I see why you like dealing in facts. So here's a fact. You could never hold _me_ back." It was spoken quickly, but Anne still caught every word. She looked at him carefully, weighing his words against his rapidly reddening cheeks.

And then suddenly she blurted out, "Would you like to go for coffee after class?"

**88888888888888**

Rick couldn't walk with her to the _Café bluebird_ right after class, since he had another lecture to get to, but he promised to be there as soon as it had ended. So here she stood waiting for him. Why had she suggested coffee? She wasn't really a coffee drinker. Why not tea, or going to the juice bar? Even grabbing a bagel would have worked. Coffee made her jittery.

She had tried sitting, but her body had been too anxious for that, and now she was wondering the shop, looking at the pictures on the wall particularly the ones that moderately hid her from the rest of the restaurant by the tall Dracaena plants in the corner. She stared at the pictures unseeing, until her legs started to cramp up.

She had started to move but was brought up short. Mostly because she had attracted the attention of one of the waiters. He had approached her quietly from behind and she had almost walked right into him, "Can I help you with something, miss?"

"No, I'm just waiting for a friend."

"Would you like anything while you wait?"

He was just being polite, but he was making Anne nervous. "I think I'll just walk over and look at your coffee selections."

There weren't too many, Anne decided that something called a Chocolate Caramel Latte sounded good. She couldn't order one yet. By the time Rick arrived she would be bouncing off the walls. That was probably not the way to attract his attention. But if he ordered a coffee that would be what she would choose. She'd rather have a hot chocolate, but she _had_ invited him for coffee. If he wanted one, she would have to drink one too.

She stared at the menu for as long as she dared, until she saw the same employee looking as if he was going to come and talk to her again. She smiled at him, and then moved back to the pictures behind the potted plants.

It was ten minutes after the hour and she was just about to accept that she had been stood up, when the bell on top of the door sounded, and Rick plunged through.

He looked around desperately, and she could see a small sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He was breathing like he had just finished running. She stepped out from behind the plant, "Over here Rick!"

"Anne," he panted, "I'm so sorry. My class ended up meeting on the south end of campus. And then the professor is this old tenured octogenarian. He didn't hear the bell. He finally stopped lecturing when he noticed students getting up and leaving."

Anne giggled, relieved, "That's okay. Maybe we should find a booth, that waiter has been staring at me."

Rick frowned and looked over at the male waiter stacking cookies behind the counter. The boy was handsome in a California beach bum kind of a way. Of course since Anne _was_ beautiful he couldn't fault the kid for having good taste, but he hoped the waiter would keep his distance now that Rick had arrived. This was _his_ date. Well, he hoped it was a date. Anne hadn't said, but a girl didn't invite a guy out for a beverage if it wasn't a date. He hoped.

If things went well-as in she didn't slap him, leave early, or turn out to be psychotic, he would definitely ask her on a proper date before their pseudo one was over.

It wouldn't be for coffee though. Why had she chosen coffee? He hated the tar. Maybe they had hot chocolate? They did; and he decided to take the plunge, "A hot chocolate please?" he asked their chubby-cheeked waitress once they had found seats.

Anne's jaw nearly dropped open. "The same," she softly uttered. "And can I get one of your triple-fudge-not-brownie, brownies?"

Rick barely held off smacking his lips. "Triple fudge…"

"_Not brownie_, brownie?" she finished for him. "They are the best; chewy, but very moist like chocolate cake. My dorm, freshman year used to be right across the street from this place. I'd come here every Sunday."

Rick watched as Anne plucked small pieces from the oozing chocolate brownie and daintily dropped them in between her full lips. Occasionally she would pick up the stray crumbs between her fingers and absentmindedly lick them off with a delicate pink tongue. Rick was mesmerized. And he feared he would start hyperventilating when he watched her suck her own hot chocolate through the plastic straw, her lips strong and... When had he turned into such a girl?

He tore his eyes away checking to see what the Beach Bum was up to. He was watching Anne too. So it wasn't only Rick who couldn't take his eyes off of her. And she didn't even seem aware of it. It was refreshing to encounter a girl who was completely unaware of her appeal. It made her all the more attractive.

"…lecture was interesting…" He tore his eyes away from Beach Bum, Anne was talking to him and she thankfully hadn't noticed his distraction.

"Yes her theories on Cro Magnon _were_ interesting though I thought it odd that she would lecture out of sequence like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Cro's were around about 35,000 years ago. I expected her to continue with the hominids or move on to Homo Erectus, they came around about 2 million years ago." He shrugged and took a drink from his own hot chocolate like it was no big deal that he could spout off such random facts like that.

"How do you know all this?"

Anne had almost finished the brownie. Rick motioned at it, "Are you going to finish all of that?"

She tucked the brownie closer to her chest endearingly like a child protecting a revered stuffed animal, "Do you want some then?"

He grinned wirily at her, "Yeah, I think I do." He swirled the rich russet liquid around in his mug, "I'm a real chocolate nut."

"How about you answer my question, and I'll see what I can do." _She was flirting! Emma would be so proud._

He shrugged and one eyebrow rose, "It's no big deal, I learned most of it in Summer school."

_Darn! So simple after all. And now she would have to give up the rest of her brownie,_ "Summer school?" She handed over a large chunk of her brownie with a mock frown.

"I grew up in Livermore. Not much to do when you are a teenager without a driver's license."

"Livermore? I haven't heard of it."

"It's in the Front Range mountains, north of here about 30 miles or so. Pretty small town."

"What did your family do?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck again._ He was nervous!_ "My mom was the cook at the Livery Ranch. My dad was the ranch foreman."

Being from the city, she had never thought much about country life. Did people still work on farms and the like? Rick's family obviously did. Her Auntie employed servants, a maid, a housekeeper, a gardener _and_ a cook. Was Rick the offspring of servants? What would her Auntie have to say about that? Anne realized suddenly that she didn't care. Rick was handsome, intelligent, and he made her happy. Surely Auntie would not object.

"A ranch? Is that where you grew up?"

He looked at her shrewdly, obviously he had noticed her hesitance, she was smiling at him encouragingly, "Yeah."

"Does that mean you can ride a horse?" Her voice vibrated with excitement. She had always wanted to learn how to ride a horse!

He laughed lightly, "My father made sure of it. He wanted me to take over for him when he retired."

Her eyebrows knitted, "How is Philosophy…?"

"He and I had uh…differing opinions on my career options. _I_ want to be a professor."

"Oh."

"You don't approve?" His tone was teasing but there was something behind it that she didn't like, though she couldn't name it.

"My Auntie wanted me to go to Harvard."

He smiled in relief, "I guess we're both rebels."

Suddenly the cat clock on the wall meowed the hour. Anne looked at it, then jumped up, "Oh my gosh! I'm late for a class. Um, thanks Rick for coming," she was looking at anything but him, trying to pick up her bag, and put back on her shoes which she seemed to have shook off during their conversation.

She jerked when Rick suddenly grabbed her arm, and then nearly melted at the feel of his strong hand touching her skin, "Say, what are you doing tomorrow night? I'd like to take you out. If you would like," he quickly added. _Please say yes! Things were going so well._

She beamed at him, "I would _definitely_ like that."

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**P.S. Getting this updated will take time since most of my energy is focused on finishing up the 'Forever trilogy.' If you want more, do like Anita did, and tell me ;0)**

**P.P.S. Please review guys! Even a ;) face if you liked it, or a :( **** if you didn't! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay guys! I'll take the hint.**

**Chapter 7**

"How do I get a restraining order?"

Elizabeth looked up from her anatomy textbook at Emma who had just stormed into the apartment, "Usually you would have had to bother someone a lot, make some threats against their person…"

"Not for ME!"

"Is someone bothering you Emma?" Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. Emma might be the taller of the two, but Elizabeth was definitely tougher.

"This one guy! Everywhere I go, there he is! I can't seem to get away from him."

"Is he threatening you?" Elizabeth cracked her knuckles.

"You really shouldn't crack your knuckles, it will give you arthritis. Surprised you didn't know that Ms. Doctor."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Emma, focus!"

Emma blinked at her owlishly, "What?"

"Is he threatening you?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, 'Not exactly.' Either he is, or he isn't."

"Okay so he isn't." Suddenly at the door, there came a knock. If a knock could be called polite, this was it, two short-not too loud, not too soft- knocks. "Oh! It's him. I just know it. How did he find out where I live?" Emma ran for her room, and slammed the door, from behind the wood, Elizabeth heard her bellow, "I'm not home!"

"And I'm sure he heard that," Elizabeth muttered to herself as she went for the door.

"Pardon me Miss…" He frowned, hat in hand, "You are not Miss Woodhouse."

Elizabeth leaned away from him, taking in his form from his curly mop of hair down to his shiny hessians. "No. I'm not."

"Mr. Knightly, at you service."

"Elizabeth Bennet."

"Is this…pardon the impertinence, is this the home of Miss Woodhouse."

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow and leaned against the door jam, "Yeah, she lives here."

He tried to peak his head around Elizabeth, but she deftly outmaneuvered him, "Is she available for a morning in?"

"A what?"

"Yes, I forget where I am. I will explain, All proper young ladies set aside a few mornings a week to receive visitors. Is Miss Woodhouse available today?"

"She told me to tell you that she was not at home."

His shoulders slumped momentarily before he straightened again to his full height. If Elizabeth had blinked, she would have missed it, "Perhaps tomorrow she would be…" Elizabeth shook her head slightly, "No? Perhaps the day after would be acceptable?" Elizabeth couldn't bear the look of hope and innocence. Whatever this guy was, he wasn't a stalker. It was almost as if he was some type of admirer. Emma had many admirers but never anyone so insistent, and Elizabeth could not turn him down without feeling guilty.

"I'll tell her you stopped by and will return, the day after tomorrow."

His heels clicked together, "Thank you Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth closed the door behind her, counted to ten, then "Emma! Get out here!"

"A blond head poked out from behind its door, "Is he gone?"

"Good grief, you act like he is some kind of boogieman. Yes, HE'S gone."

Anne walked in and looked between the two girls bemused, "What's going on?"

Elizabeth swiped a wide hand, "Emma's having an episode."

"I'm not crazy! He is!"

"He was a bit eccentric…"

"He thinks he's from the 19th century!"

Elizabeth deflated, "What? No he doesn't."

"Yes, he does, he told me!"

"He must be teasing you," Anne suggested softly as she tried to edge herself across the room and in between the quarrelling girls.

"And he won't leave me alone!" Emma stomped her foot and let out a huff.

Elizabeth wiped a weary hand over her forehead, "I don't have time for this Emma, I have problems of my own."

Emma opened her mouth to protest, the clamped it shut, "What could possibly be wrong with you?"

"You were right about William Darcy."

"I know! So?"

"I want out of the bet Emma."

"Fine, then Billy Collins gets your number."

Elizabeth sighed, she probably deserved that, "Fine Emma, give him my number, my address, my class schedule, I don't care." She picked up her anatomy book and slumped off to her room.

Her door suddenly swung open, "Oh and Emma, if I'm about to be courted by the Creep Collins, I insist that you give Mr. Knightly a chance."

"What?"

"He'll be here in 2 days to visit, and YOU will let him in." She slammed her door shut.

Anne eyed Emma carefully, the girl's face had turned red, and she looked like she would shoot off into the atmosphere at any moment. "How dare she? Doesn't she understand?"

"What are you talking about Emma," Anne's soft voice interrupted the monologue.

"She's just….ah! This is important!" And with that, she stomped off to her own bedroom and slammed the door shut.

Anne had a decision to make. She looked at the identical doors, studying each in their turn. Which to choose? She went for the one on the right, "Elizabeth? I'm going out tonight I thought someone should know."

"Out?" Anne rarely left in the evenings, "Where are you headed?"

"Just with a friend, to see a movie."

"What!" Expostulated from behind both doorways, for Emma was quite adept at eavesdropping. And suddenly Anne was faced with both girls.

"You have date?"

"Who is he?"

"Anne, what's his name?"

"Anne? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Anne had been trying to speak, her mouth alternately opening and closing as she tried to answer the barrage of questions being flung at her.

Elizabeth shut her lips tightly, realizing that the poor Sophomore was feeling overwhelmed. Emma was not so astute. "Anne, say something!"

"Frederick! He goes by Rick."

Emma nodded approvingly, "Good strong name. Is he handsome?"

Anne turned beet red, "I suppose we can take that as a yes," Elizabeth's dry voice sounded.

"What's he studying, where is he from?"

"He's from here, he's studying philosophy. He wants to be a professor." She hoped Rick would forgive her the little white lie, Emma was proud to be a snob. Livermore was just far enough below her radar that she would certainly take offense at Rick paying his addresses to Anne.

"A professor?" Emma tapped her chin, "Well I suppose that is alright, so long as he plans on teaching at an accredited institution."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Emma grow up. Or better yet, stop talking like my grandmother."

"I'm only thinking of her future!"

"It's a first date!" She suddenly turned to Anne, "It is a first date, isn't it?"

By this time, Anne was sweating from all the attention, "Well not really, we went to Café Bluebird earlier in the week. I asked him," she felt the need to add.

Both girls gaped at her. And then they both started speaking at once again,

"You asked him!"

"Anne!"

"That's so unlike you."

"I'm so proud of you."

And then Elizabeth with mock tears in her eyes and flapping her arms like a mother hen, "Our little baby is growing up!"

Emma frowned for a moment, "You tried to distract me."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Emma, get over yourself!"

"You're doing it again," Elizabeth was sputtering but Emma ignored her, "Now Anne, you need to know about his career plans and such, it's important to your future."

Elizabeth had recovered, "What's she supposed to do ask for tax forms?"

Either Emma missed the sarcasm or she ignored it, "I suppose that wouldn't be such a bad idea." She thought about it for a while tapping her chin.

Elizabeth began pushing Anne towards the door and away from their scheming roommate, "Don't worry about her, she's crazy. This is very exciting and I'm so happy for you. At least one of us has found the one!"

"The one?" Anne blushed again, she wasn't so sure about that.

"Honey, with the way you are looking all starry-eyed, it certainly won't be long before you have your happily-ever after. Now forget about Emma and enjoy your date."

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**Okay guys it might be awhile before you hear from me (a couple of weeks). I have a triathlon coming up and I really need to get my head into it. **

**Oh, and happy Birthday to me! **

**As always, reviews make me happy…so you know, do your thing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**So yeah, triathlon was a while ago…It went well, (thanks for asking) and I even got my dream time. Yea!**

**I've been holding off on this story, or this chapter really because I couldn't exactly decide what to do about Knightly. **

**Well now I do! So Congratulations, I'm BACK!**

**And ****snakethatmadetherabbitlaugh ()—How did you know? I was writing this the very moment your review came in for THE INCIDENT. Cue "Twilight Zone" music…**

**

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**Chapter 8**

_Ring, Ring!_

"Hey Ms. Russell...No Anne isn't here at the moment…Study group? Uh no, she's out with a… uh…a friend." Sigh. "Yes Ms. Russell, a male friend… Yes I'll be sure to have her call you."

Elizabeth grabbed her forgotten Human Dissection textbook **(A/N: Yes they really teach this at university, I know, ewww!)** and tried to concentrate once more. "Clean the sub-dermal fat layer with…"

_Ring, Ring!_ "Really? Another phone call?" Determined not to answer at first, Elizabeth eyed the phone shrewdly. But then she heard the voice of her father the County Doctor, "Could be something important. Could be something important. Could be something important...," he drawled to the beat of the telephone bells.

Mind made up she lunged for it finally, catching it on the last ring, "Hello?...No Ms. Russell, she's still not home….Yeesh it's only been a minute since you last called!...I said I'll have her call you the minute she gets home…Yes, that's right. I wouldn't dream of being rude to you Ms. Russell. Yes, goodbye Ms. Russell."

Elizabeth angrily tore through the pages of her textbook, the stupid thing had fallen closed on the floor when she had gone for the phone. "Sub-dermal…No…Ah, here it is…uh, no….AH! This is definitely it. Clean the sub-dermal fat layer with a…"

_Ring, Ring!_

"Will that crazy Old Bat just stop calling?"

"I've got to get out of here!" Elizabeth shoved a pair of shoes onto her feet, grabbed an apple and a granola bar and fled, just as the phone began to ring for the fourth time that morning.

_Ring Ring!_

She would later learn that bringing the granola bar along would prove fortuitous.

**(())(())(())888(())(())(())**

Emma was not home for her prearranged 'morning in.' And she didn't feel guilty about it at all. Okay, so she felt a little bit guilty, but when the Floral Design teacher asked her for her assistance with a summer introductory class, she couldn't say no. Okay, so yes she could have said "no," but that was neither here nor there. And it wasn't like she had to be there this early for a class that wasn't scheduled to start for another hour, but it would give her a chance to mentally prepare. Practice her yoga, or Pilates breathing. Or that's what she kept telling herself. Just because Mr. Knightly might be coming by to the apartment at that very moment, didn't mean that she had to shirk her responsibilities.

She sat on the grass waiting for Professor Taylor to open the greenhouse doors. When Emma got nervous she tended to babble. And that rather unfortunate tendency didn't lessen even when she was alone, "It's not my fault, I had commitments. I don't feel bad. I won't feel bad. He probably won't even come." She laughed nervously, "He'll find his time warp or time machine or something…" She giggled again, "Seriously Emma, let's be realistic. There's no such thing as a time machine!"

"You know I thought I might find you here."

"Eep!," she spun around to see, "Mr. Knightly!," with a small smile on his face.

"Typically when a woman says she will be having a 'morning in' she is actually home for it."

"Ah. Yes. Well."

"But you were not at home this morning. The kind Miss Bennet that answered the door checked for me."

"Yes. Well," Emma said again. "I had a commitment. Didn't Elizabeth tell you? One of my professors asked me to help out today. Floral Arranging! I was the best in the class last year and uh…I…uh…" Emma closed her lips firmly, refusing to offer any more excuses.

"Yes, Miss Bennet did tell me."

"You can call her Elizabeth or Liz. She won't mind."

Mr. Knightly frowned at her, clearly perplexed, "We are not kin. Such an informal greeting would be uncouth."

"So does that mean I can't call you George?" Emma joked.

Mr. Knightly's eyes grew very soft, "I would like it very well indeed if you would call me George."

Emma backpedaled frantically, somehow knowing that she had unintentionally crossed a bridge that she wasn't ready for just yet, "You have me there, Mr. Knightly!" She shook her shaking finger at him mockingly. "Miss Bennet it is then." She tried to ignore the way his face fell. "So a morning in? I don't have crumpets or cucumber sandwiches or anything…aren't we supposed to eat those… or is it biscuits, I mean the cookie, not the…uh… " She was babbling again, and couldn't quite figure out why she wasn't shutting up, she hadn't gone on like this in a long time, not since her father had hired that diction coach for her.

"I always enjoyed my tea with a scone and clotted cream." Mr. Knightly offered helpfully.

Emma blinked at him. Was his comment somehow designed to try and make her feel better? And why was it working?

"I've never had a proper high tea I guess. At the country club, there aren't any scones."

"They have clubs in the country here!" Mr. Knightly's eyes shown with unrestrained glee, "Well, that's brilliant! Then the men wouldn't have to escape to London for business meetings. They could just take their curricle or horse down the lane!" He stood up and puffed out his chest, "I think I'm going to like America."

Emma couldn't stop the smile that crossed her lips, he looked as thrilled as a kid on Christmas, "Won't you miss your hackney's and House of Lords though?"

"Oh! No." He nodded his head to solidify his choice, "Sir Elliot was an old windbag anyway." A gurgle of laughter escaped Emma at such a phrase coming from a proper British Gent, "I'm sorry, that was rather ungentlemanly of me wasn't it?"

"I think I like you a bit ungentlemanly." Emma said before she could stop herself. She wanted an untainted gentleman, didn't she? Didn't she? What was happening to her?

**(())(())(())888(())(())(())**

Elizabeth never thought she would see Will again.

No. That's not true. At the very least, she hoped it would be awhile before she saw him again. A week perhaps. If she was really lucky, a whole month maybe. So she was a bit irritated, understandably so, when she stumbled into him outside of her advisor's door. Literally, her head snapped back, and her legs flew out from under her as she hit his solid chest.

As she lay flat on her back, her vision spinning, she heard the voice that she had hoped to do without for a while, "Are you alright Elizabeth? You walked right into me."

Elizabeth frowned at him, but only for a moment, before she composed herself, "That I did." Her voice was calm, but her eyes spoke of her anger. If Will had bothered looking into them he might had recoiled and such loathing.

He reached for her than thought better of it, unsure what touching her would lead to, "Are you alright?"

"I will be," Elizabeth began to climb to her feet, and then Will did truly try to help her, "No, that's alright. I've got it." She pushed herself up from the floor agilely, and ducked away from him, heading down the hallway.

Will took one step into the office Elizabeth had just vacated and stopped. A light female blazer was hanging on the chair before him. It must be Elizabeth's. In a moment of insanity, (for what else could it be?) he grabbed it and went rushing after her, "Elizabeth…Elizabeth?"

She turned slowly, her face carefully blank, "Yes?"

"You, uh…" he shoved the jacket at her, "You forgot this."

Her eyes flicked down to the coat and then back up at him, "Not, mine, sorry."

"Oh." Will fumbled with it-fingering the stiches, hanging it over his arm, and then finally allowed it to hang limply at his side. It occurred to him suddenly that she was being colder than he felt he deserved and he wondered what he had done to annoy her this time. Why was _this_ woman so difficult to read?

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment before, "Good-bye Will." It had a certain finality to it that Will didn't like. And then she was gone.

Will returned to the office, "How can I help you Mr. Darcy?" Doctor Thomas, Elizabeth's advisor and the foremost researcher on the new techniques to deal with adolescent drug addictions, greeted his next appointment.

"It's about my sister, sir." And Will launched into his sordid tale.

**(())(())(())888(())(())(())**

The second spring storm of that year also caught Elizabeth unawares. That it should happen just 45 minutes after her encounter with Will plummeted her day into the "no good, very bad day" category. "Maybe I should move to Australia!" she shouted to the skies, "At least there they probably have predictable weather!"

An arm suddenly shot out, tugging her out of the storm and into a low building, "Anne?" Elizabeth recognized those short fingers.

"We have to get out of the storm Elizabeth. A tornado warning is in effect for all of Larimer County. There's one moving south, and 20 miles from here. Looks like a big one. Everyone is getting down to the basements."

"Oh," was all Elizabeth could think so say. Then she recollected something, "But surely it won't hit campus…"

Anne shook her head, "It's headed right for us."

Anne tugged Elizabeth by the hand down the stairwell, just as the sounds of hailstones hitting the tin roof began.

The lights of the classroom were low, increasing the melancholy of the students already gathered. "It'll blow over…it'll blow over…it'll blow over…" One girl was chanting repeatedly to herself in the corner.

Elizabeth stifled a grin, but it slipped completely from her face the moment she discovered where Anne was leading them, the only open corner in the room, occupied by none other than Will Darcy. Who was actively sweating. He looked very different from the stern robotic male she had encountered less than an hour before. Everyone was keeping their distance, some of them surreptitiously watching him, wondering what kind of episode he was having. Elizabeth rolled her eyes to the heavens before approaching him slowly. "Will?"

Will didn't seem to hear her at first, he was digging through his bag with shaking fingers and muttering to himself.

She sat beside him touching his arm lightly, "Will, are you alright?"

He jumped, startled. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body began sliding to the floor. Elizabeth instantly responded, checking his skin and pulse rate. He was incredibly cold and clammy, and his heart was racing, "I forgot to…forgot to pack…"

Elizabeth tried to make him comfortable on the carpeted floor, bundling her sweater into a ball and sticking it under his head, "You are a diabetic, aren't you?" Will tried to nod, but his head only lulled. "I wish I had some sugar water to give you. You're a little too far into the attack for solids, but it's all I have, so it will have to do." She pulled the granola bar from her pocket and was relieved to see that she had grabbed the kind with chocolate chips. Carefully she separated the chocolate from the chewy granola, and place one chip into his mouth. Then she found another, and another, adding as many as she could to the small pile gathering under his tongue. As the chocolate melted and separated into Will's blood stream, his heart rate finally calmed and his skin warmed. "Feel a little better?"

Will managed to mutter a "Thank you," before swallowing thickly.

Elizabeth shrugged it away casually which caused him to scowl darkly, "Just doing my job."

His addled mind realized that she had just brushed his thanks, his gratitude aside. He didn't thank many people. Because he didn't need many people. But she had helped him and thus deserved polite thanks. Why did her words in response, make him feel that he was about as important as that neglected overhead projector standing in the distant darkened corner? Will rolled onto his side and away from Elizabeth, not willing to think about it anymore.

She shook her head. Jerk!

**(())(())(())888(())(())(())**

Anne weathered the storm remarkably well, her eyes only seeing Rick, seated directly beside her. They were shoulder to shoulder and his thigh rested firmly against hers sending pleasurable tingles throughout her entire body. She felt like giggling.

They were currently speaking of their childhoods, "When did you first ride a horse?" Anne asked him. "I mean, were you a little kid, a teenager?"

"Definitely a kid," ick shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe 3 or 4? That's as early as I can remember anyway. Back then my Dad would set me on one of the small ponies and lead it around in a circle. My feet couldn't even reach the stir-ups. 'Keep the spine firm!,' he would shout at me." Rick hunched his shoulders dramatically, "I was a bit of a hunchback when I was a kid."

Admiring his profile, Anne spoke without thinking, "Not anymore!" Her face immediately heated up. Rick grinned and Anne looked away, smoothing her hair behind her ears, "So..uh…where did you ride? In a meadow, or something?"

"Nah, just in the corral."

"That's...what is that exactly?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Here," Rick grabbed her hand and held it palm facing upward, hoping she didn't notice that his own hand was shaking, "You have the main farm house right here," he pointed to the top left corner of her hand. _Man, her hands are soft._ "And over here is the hired house where all of the ranch hands live. Right beside it," his finger traced a wide circle, "Is where the corral is. It's beside the barn too. It's where the horses are usually if there is nice weather and they aren't being exercised or working." His finger continued to trace the same circle, over and over again, and Anne shivered. "Are you cold?" He leaned very close, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. Anne managed to shake her head. Just barely. Rick interlaced their fingers and brought their now combined hands to rest on his thigh, "Good. But if you want, I could always warm you up."

Anne smiled and whispered softly, hoping her voice and her courage wouldn't fail her, "I might take you up on that."

**(())(())(())888(())(())(())**

Emma didn't even know about the storm. She was back at the apartment, sleeping and dreaming about men in tight breeches who opened doors, rode stallions, and had British accents. Not named Mr. Knightly though. That would be silly. And though the guy in her dream had curly hair and soft eyes and went by the name Gnatly, she refused to make the connection when she woke up well rested, and blissfully unaware that a tornado had passed not 10 miles from where she had slept.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9**

"Anne?" Elizabeth moseyed into the kitchen much earlier that morning then Anne had ever seen her before, and the younger girl jumped consequentially, "Do you ever regret having done a good deed? Not like helping an old lady across the street, or making sure the neighbors get their paper when it was delivered to your door instead of theirs but something big, like you really made a difference for someone. But it didn't turn out the way you wanted, and you're pretty sure that you wouldn't have regretted not doing anything at all? I mean if you remembered and could change it?"

Elizabeth was babbling, something that Anne would have expected from Emma, "I don't quite understand what you are getting at."

"You are going to think I'm terrible."

Anne shook her head, "Elizabeth, you couldn't do anything truly terrible. It's not in your nature."

"I wished I hadn't shared my granola bar with Will." Elizabeth finally blurted out.

Anne blinked at her, "Well that's…that's rather odd, really." Her eyebrow's knitted, "Why would that be terrible then exactly?"

For a long time, Elizabeth studied the patterns on the counter even reaching out to rub them with her fingertips, "Will has diabetes. He would have gone into shock, a coma perhaps if I or someone else hadn't given him something with some sugar in it. It's not like I wish him ill,' she hurried to add, "I just wish that someone else would have helped him, instead of it having to be me."

Immediately Anne switched to her lawyer mode, "Why do you feel that way?"

Elizabeth threw her hands up in the air, "I don't know! Really, I don't know. It's almost like it makes me care, and with this stupid bet and everything, I didn't want my heart to get involved. It should be 'get it over with and move on.' Instead I'm being...being…" Elizabeth picked up a handful of Cheerios and popped them into her mouth.

Anne was perplexed, "You love him?"

Elizabeth choked, coughing and sputtering, "Absolutely not!" She reached for a cup and filled it with water to sooth her throat, "I just…after he has been so cruel to me, he didn't really deserve my kindness. I only offered it because he was hurting. And then, he said 'thank you,' he didn't have to. I don't gather that it is something he is good at or does particularly often. But he said it. I brushed it off and he, for a brief second, he almost seemed offended. It was that moment, that one small stitch in time when I felt something. I don't know what it was. I'm not sure I like it though."

Anne mulled it over. Elizabeth had come to her because unlike Emma, Anne would consider Elizabeth's words and her fear behind those words and offer an opinion. Instead of jumping directly to conclusions and starting to sing "Elizabeth and William, sitting in a tree." Emma could be particularly childish sometimes.

"Is it something you would be willing to explore?"

Elizabeth tugged at her hair, "I don't know! He really is awful! He's been rude, abrupt, completely inept socially. Why does this bother me so much?"

"Because you care." Anne held up a hand to forestall the indignation that she knew was dripping out of Elizabeth's pores at such a phrase, "Not like that! You care about people in general. You always have. No matter how hard you try, you will never be able to be indifferent to anyone. Even William Darcy."

Elizabeth frowned. "What was I thinking? I should have never taken that bet!" She tossed another handful of cereal into her mouth. She finally decided that the cereal would be much better with milk, and that was how Emma eventually found her, hunched over a bowl,

"Good morning!"

"Someone's all peppy today," Elizabeth growled.

"Well it's a lovely day. The sun is already shining!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Alright. Who's the guy?"

Emma pursed her lips, "Why do you assume that there is a guy? Can't I just be happy?"

"Maybe if you were, let's say me, or Anne, than perhaps. But you are a creature of habit, Emma. Habits that always involve men."

"That's an awful thing to say!"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, "But so true."

Emma started to dig through the cupboards trying to find something edible, "Who bit your butt?"

"Nobody," Elizabeth muttered.

Emma whirled towards her, eyes wide, "This is about Will isn't it? You finally figured out that he is the biggest jerk alive. I was right!"

"Not everything is about you, Emma," Elizabeth growled.

Emma looked at Anne helplessly, but Anne only shrugged, "It's not about me Elizabeth. It's about Harriet remember?"

"Speaking of Harriet," Anne spoke up, "I saw her walking around a few days ago with a nice looking boy."

"What?" Emma screeched. "She didn't say a word to me. I wonder who he is?"

Elizabeth looked up from her cereal bowl, at Emma's face, "Let it alone Emma. If Harriet is happy…"

"But….Harriet is wonderful, she deserves someone wonderful!"

"Maybe this kid is her kind of wonderful."

"Still," Emma tapped at her chin, "You know, I think I'll call her."

"Emma!"

"Close your mouth Elizabeth. Don't worry, Harriet will thank me for this."

Elizabeth bit down on her tongue, hard. Someone needed to teach Emma a lesson. But it would certainly be a herculean task. Who could possibly be up for such a thing?

(((***(((888)))***)))

George Knightly was certainly tenacious, Emma decided. Almost bordering on stubborn! Someone once told her that the words meant the same things, but she didn't believe it.

Now he sat at her favorite booth at the coffee shop, motioning her over to join him. But she was supposed to be meeting Harriet and in that very booth too!

"Mr. Knightly. Fancy seeing you here."

"I found the coffee particularly good here," Mr. Knightly gestured to the seat beside him, "Would you care to join me?"

"Well I'm supposed to be meeting a friend," Emma fretted. How was she to get him away from _her_ booth without being rude?

"There's plenty of room. I think I would like to meet your friend."

Well that clinched it. Emma fell into the seat, crossing one leg over the other, "You look like you are almost done with your coffee. I wouldn't want to keep you," she hinted.

"Being so far from home and my responsibilities I don't have much to take up my time."

"Yes, about that. Aren't you anxious to be going back to England?"

Mr. Knightly smiled, a small little grin, "I'm actually enjoying my time here. Did you know my watch fob was an antique? I took it to something called a pawn shop and they gave me all of this!" He pulled a money clip from his pocket and waved it at her.

Emma blinked, that was certainly a lot of money, "Don't you miss your home though? Your uh, own bed and such?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me Miss Woodhouse?"

_Yes! _"No of course not."

The bell above the door rang, "Harriet!" Emma rose to her feet, and rushed towards her friend, "Do you want to sit at the bar or something? Our usual table…"

Harriet's eyes grew big as she took in Mr. Knightly, her inner girl squealed, "Who's that?"

"Nobody!" Emma tried to wave it aside.

Mr. Knightly had already climbed to his feet, "Miss Woodhouse would you do me the honor of introducing your friend?"

Emma uttered an unladylike oath under her breath, "Of course! Harriet, this is George Knightly."

"Hey George! Do you go by Joe, or Georgie or anything?"

Mr. Knightly raised his eyebrows at Emma before looking at Harriet again, "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Harriet."

Harriet blinked at him, "Miss Harriet. I like it Makes me sound regal. So where are you from George?"

Emma leaped into the conversation before Mr. Knightly started in on his time-traveling nonsense, "Mr. Knightly is from England, he's just here for a visit," her eyes dared him to protest.

Harriet giggled, "Why do you call him Mr. Knightly?"

"They're more formal over there," Emma fumbled, "Isn't that right, _Mr. Knightly_?"

"May I get you some coffee, Miss Harriet?" Mr. Knightly offered, completely ignoring Emma.

"What a gentleman!" Harriet said to Emma in what she hoped to be a pseudo voice, but still manage to permeate the shop. Emma turned red in embarrassment, Mr. Knightly grinned and walked to the counter.

"Don't encourage him Harriet!"

"Why not?" Harriet frowned at her friend, "He seems so nice. And so handsome," she sighed.

"So I heard that there was a special guy in your life?" Emma tried to distract Harriet from thinking about how handsome Mr. Knightly was, though she could not determine why she was doing such a thing. It wasn't like _she_ was interested in him!

Harriet blushed crimson, "One of the boys from home came to visit me. Wasn't that sweet?"

Emma gritted her teeth, Harriet was from a small farming town in Wyoming, "Yes wonderful. Was he home from college then?"

"Oh, no," Harriet gushed, "He is an auto-mechanic. He's not in college!"

"Not in college! You mean he already graduated then?"

"He never went," Harriet giggled, "He was the football star in high school but then he blew out his knee. Instead of college he went to work with his Dad. All the girls were after him. Can you believe he came to visit me?"

"Charming," Emma drawled, "Well I suppose it's not wrong to have friends."

"Here you are, Miss Harriet." Mr. Knightly was back with two cups of coffee, "And for you, Miss Woodhouse."

Emma looked at the cup and frowned, how did he know how she took her coffee? Like he could reading her mind, Mr. Knightly answered immediately, "It seems you are a regular customer here, the lady at the counter was willing to help me decide what would be to your taste."

"Thank you, Geor…I mean Mr. Knightly." Harriet giggled.

"You are most welcome Miss Harriet." Harriet blushed again.

Emma pounced, "See Harriet? I bet your friend isn't as gentlemanly as Mr. Knightly here. That's part of a higher education you know!"

Thankfully Emma missed the scowl on Mr. Knightly's face before he schooled his features. It would have confused her.

"But Robbie is very nice! He even pays for some of the groceries!"

"Is he staying with you?" Emma asked incredulously.

Harriet looked confused, "Well of course. Where else would he stay?"

This was getting out of hand. A friend was one thing, but a boy who was staying in her apartment, mooching off her kindness was a whole mess of wrong! How could a more appropriate boy ever hope to court Harriet if this Robbie was always around? "Aren't you worried about what kind of message that is sending?" Emma finally said.

"No. He's dreamy!" Harriet cooed.

Emma resisted the urge to slap her forehead. Suddenly an idea, "Don't you think it is unconventional for a male to stay at the home of a female Mr. Knightly?"

"Does Miss Harriet live alone?"

"Oh, no, I have oodles of roommate. They're always around!"

"Then there are chaperones. It would be acceptable in my country."

"I'm going to go for more coffee." Emma rose to her feet, "Mr. Knightly, would you be so kind as to join me?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Mr. Knightly took the hint, "How could you encourage her like that?" Emma hissed once they were far enough away from Harriet, "Obviously this boy is unacceptable."

Mr. Knightly looked genuinely confused, "Are you her guardian?"

"I'm her friend!"

"So what exactly is your purpose then?"

"Harriet deserves someone better!"

"If you are not her guardian, how is it that you decide?"

Emma clanged her coffee cup down onto the counter, "I'd like another one please!" The barista went scurrying away.

Her eyes glinted at Mr. Knightly and her voice was a harsh whisper, "What do you mean by that?"

"Miss Harriet is of age. Why are you making such decisions for her?"

"She's my friend, she needs guidance."

Mr. Knightly shrugged a smooth and subtle motion, "I don't see why. She seems happy and if this "Robbie" is the cause of that, why not let her be."

"Order up!" The barista placed Emma's now full cup in front of her. Emma grabbed at it and then went storming back to the table,

"You don't understand anything," she hissed over her shoulder.

Mr. Knightly followed her quickly, tugging her arm around so she faced him, "I understand that your friend is happy. Let it be Miss Woodhouse."

Emma shook off his hand, "When I want your advice Mr. Knightly, I will ask for it!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and to her credit, Emma stood her ground. Then he turned on his heel and left the coffee shop, Emma tried to smile at Harriet as she sat back down, "Well Mr. Knightly had somewhere he needed to be."

Harriet's eyes were wide, "I hope everything is alright."

"Perfectly fine!" Emma patted her hand, "Now I just want to tell you that I met this wonderful boy a few weeks back, his family owns a restaurant chain. After he gets his MBA, he's going to help branch out into new markets. Maybe even Hawaii! Now that is someone with a future, don't you think?"

Harriet frowned, "Oh, well, I think that Robbie..."

"And he was asking about you." One little white lie couldn't hurt.

(((***(((888)))***)))

Bill Collins was a grease bag. No, really! If you squeezed him especially hard, oil would drip out of his pores. Enough to bottle and sell. Not that anyone would buy it. Or risk touching him long enough to test this theory.

Everyone knew about this particular "abnormality" of his except for, himself. And everyone, rightfully, kept their distance. A yard was not enough. No, Bill Collins was given at least a 3 yard berth. Enough to guarantee that no part of him could _ever_ come in contact with another human being. In classes he sat alone with the three rows of seats behind him always empty. He had even been granted an entire 4 person dorm room for his individual use. Mistakenly of course, he chalked such things up as being his due because of his vast superiorness.

Currently he was walking in between the Statistics and Engineering buildings. It was a narrow and long alleyway, with substantial height on both sides, but still, students managed to give him the 3 yards. Some had sandwiched themselves into the small ledges of the windows on the ground floors, a few more athletic individuals had climbed onto the high limbs of the surrounding trees. The rest had crowded together in the doorway of the Stats building. Except for one freshman coed. Just as she hoped to pivot and dodge, Bill stumbled to his left and entered the "dead zone"-half a yard! Her eyes cringed shut as she thought of her clothes, her hair, her makeup. It had started as the perfect day.

In slow motion she watched in horror as Bill shook his head slightly, 3 large droplets flew off the ends of his stringing hair and smacked her in the nose. Her gag reflex engaged. It was only a five minute walk to her dorm. Shuddering, showering, sanitizing, she would only miss one class. There was supposed to be some type of quiz, but she wouldn't be able to sit through class, wondering what was growing on her face. She couldn't. Even now she could feel the individual-celled bacterium multiplying.

She was actively gagging before Bill had even passed, a move that he, of course misinterpreted. He smirked to himself. Just another hopeful, in the long line of hopefuls. The poor "Fresh" just wasn't old enough. He had a lady to woo. Now if he could only remember where Elizabeth liked to eat her lunches on Thursday?


	11. Chapter 11

**You know what makes me happy? When the literary agent you want to represent you is willing to read your full manuscript a third time! A sunny day in the middle of winter! And of course, when a fanfic given up for lost gets updated! So because I have had some good news today, I thought I'd spread it around**

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**Chapter 10**

Rick was whistling to himself, a bit of Tchaikovsky mixed with Beethoven's Fourth to the rhythm of a Latin Cha-Cha. It was not a catchy tune by any means, but it served to calm him when he was nervous. At the moment, nervous was an understatement.

This was to be his first big date with Anne. The kind where he had used the phone to call her and ask her to go out with him. He had done _that_ days ago and he had sweated throughout the entire conversation. And now a tee-shirt and jeans kind of a guy was wearing khaki pants and the only tie he owned. He had worn it to the prom too. He patted his hair down again, yes, this was a big deal.

He was halfway up the stairs to Anne's apartment when she came out of her door quickly, shutting it behind her, "Rick! You're here."

"And so are you!" He said a bit confusedly, "Why are you outside?"

She didn't answer until she had nimbly picked her way down the stairs to stand beside him, "My roommate Emma is home."

Rick's eyebrows creased, "Is she? And?"

Anne bit her lip, Emma was in one of her elitist moods, meaning anything that didn't fit into that particular category was being lambasted. Elizabeth had fled hours ago. And Rick was anything but elite. The moment Emma looked him over and she would too-from head to toe-she would have him pegged. The right eye would twitch, and she would attack, "She's a bit, uh…." She fluttered her hand a bit, "You know. I didn't think it would be a good idea for you to meet her today."

"You make her sound a bit like an exhibit at the zoo."

Anne barked a laugh and pulled him that much quicker down the stairs.

"Uh…" Rick started, by Anne interrupted,

"You have a car? I didn't know that. Are we driving somewhere?"

Emma was all forgot as Rick smiled down at her mysteriously.

Suddenly the purse on Anne's arm began to shake violently. Anne muttered to herself as she began to dig around inside it. She pulled out a bright purple and very expensive looking iPhone. It didn't really suit her. "Hello Auntie," her voice sounded surprisingly chipper for someone who looked so annoyed.

"I'm heading out right now Auntie." She covered the receiver to let out a loud sigh before she continued, "I'm sorry it took so long to answer….No I'm not trying to be petulant…Yes, I know all about the Simmons girl…Yes, I will…That too…Yes Auntie…" Up went the hand again for another loud sigh, "You too Auntie. Yes…Bye!"

She sighed again as she looked at the innocent contraption, fiddled with it for a moment before finally returning it to her purse.

Rick was confused, "Auntie?"

"My mother's sister, she looks out for us. All of us, my father, my younger sister and me."

There was something about her tone, "Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly," she smiled tightly, "Now where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise," Rick finally admitted.

"Oh!" Anne's smile was no more genuine, "Surprises are nice."

Rick beamed.

He wasn't beaming 10 minutes later when Anne's new iPhone began to ring a loud and obnoxious version of Carol of the Bells. "Hello Auntie." _She was calling again?_

"Yes I know I have a lecture tomorrow, it isn't until 10 though…No I…No, you are perfectly right, the younger generation should know their place…Yes sleep is important…I will Auntie….But…Yes, Aunt…I'm sorry," Only Rick saw how she blinked in pain, "Me too Auntie. Goodbye." She closed the phone and sighed, but this time she didn't drop it back into her purse, instead it sat on her lap, dark and quiet.

"Calls a lot does she?"

Anne shook her head, "No, not really. Well I mean maybe lately it's been more, but I'd had the phone for a few days before she called the first time. She told me she had sent it so it would be easier for us to keep in touch. Apparently she is worried that my roommates haven't been passing along my messages."

"Have they?"

"Been passing on my messages," Anne finished, "I thought they had. She used to call three times a week pretty regularly."

"That's odd isn't it? That's it more though? Trouble at home?"

Anne frowned, "No. No trouble. Or she doesn't mention any, I should say. I guess it is odd. She does ask," Anne suddenly turned bright red, "She likes me to talk about you."

Both of Rick's eyebrows flew up to his hairline, "Me?"

"Yeah, she wanted to know all about you," she fairly mumbled, "I haven't da...dated much since I've come out here for school." Anne looked away from him after her confession, her hands tightly fisted in her lap.

Rick didn't know what to say, knowing that his experience obviously far surpassed hers. He didn't want to make her feel bad. So instead of speaking, he took one of her hands in his gently, relaxing the fingers and intertwined them with his own. He raised them to his lips and placed a light kiss onto the knuckles. He heard her sigh again, this time in what he hoped was pleasure. His heart did flip-flops when she finally turned to him, her eyes glowing at him, "You're a charmer Rick."

"Only for you Anne."

The rest of the drive, 50 minutes in all, the iPhone didn't ring and Rick was on top of the world. Anne had not let go of his hand the entire time, and now it was resting softly on the top of his knee. And Anne was still smiling at him. Rick parked in downtown Denver near Blake Street, inhaling the night air lustily as he led his girl to his favorite restaurant.

Golden lights shined out of the windows and into the darkening night, welcoming diners. Anne looked up at the hand painted sign, "Vesta? I've never been here."

"Their Korean Buffalo is the best."

"They have Buffalo in Korea?" Anne's look was entirely innocent but there was a small twinkle in her eye.

Rick laughed, "You'll love it."

They had just been seated when Anne's phone rang again. The brief respite was over, "Hello Auntie," Anne answered, "We just sat down to dinner…It looks like a really nice place…No!...I mean of course not Auntie…I'm sorry…Yes…I know…I know…Me too…Bye Aunt…" She closed the phone, her face crumbling as she closed her eyes painfully.

Rick reached across to touch her hand, "Did you fight?" It wasn't really a question because he already knew the answer.

"She just…she said something mean but…I shouldn't have yelled at her."

Rick's eyes flashed, this Auntie of hers sounded like a sociopath, "You didn't yell!"

Anne cringed away from his anger but his grip tightened on her hand, "I'm sorry, I'm not angry at you, but I don't understand why she's offended. You didn't do anything wrong."

Anne's chin dropped to her chest. Rick moved to her side of the booth, "Anne?" He lifted her chin, his eyes imploring, "You didn't do anything wrong," he repeated. "She's been calling all night. Making you upset. Maybe you should turn the phone off."

Anne was already shaking her head, before he'd even finished speaking, "NO! I can't do that. She told me I had to keep it on at all times. In case there was is an emergency!"

The possibility of an emergency suddenly surfacing after the _third_ call Auntie placed to her niece in so few minutes seemed highly unlikely, but Rick kept his mouth shut. Instead he smiled tightly and changed the subject.

Vesta wasn't known for its punctual service, but Rick liked it because it allowed its patrons space and privacy to dine in. It was intimate and romantic and just before the waiter arrived, Rick had Anne smiling happily again.

Appetizer's came with their selected dipping sauces, and Anne exclaimed over the chutney and the spicy ginger, "This is wonderful!"

Rick grinned as he watched her lick sauce off of her fingers. And then Anne's phone rang again and his lips turned down, "Don't answer it," even as Anne placed her finger over the select button.

"But if it's an emergency!"

Rick shook his head, "Then she'll leave a message. You can check it later. After you finish eating at least." _Come on Anne, you can do it!_

"She'll be so upset."

Rick shrugged his shoulders, "She'll get over it. You are an adult. She needs to know that."

Anne shook her head as the phone continued to ring, "But what if…?"

He took the phone from her, placing it out of her reach, "You know how my father wanted me to be a rancher like him?"

Anne eyes flew up from watching the phone.

Rick kept talking, "The day I told him, we had a horrible fight. He threatened to cut me off. Not like we had much, but he could have helped me get into college, at least given me the money for food and books and such. Instead at 18, I had to make my own way. I came here, to Denver I mean. I worked 3 jobs." He ticked them off his fingers, "One was a stock boy in the mornings. Then there was Vesta, I was a busboy, or a waiter if they were busy. And finally I pulled a shift as a security guard at an office complex at night."

"When did you sleep?" Anne asked in an awed little voice.

"In the afternoons," Rick smiled at the memory.

"It took me two years but I finally saved up enough money to quit all but one of them. I hadn't talked to any of my family during that time. My last shift as a security guard, I was so tired, I was literally dragging myself back to my dingy apartment. I didn't see them until I almost stumbled over them. My mother AND my father had come down for a visit. _She_ hugged me tightly, I thought she might have cracked a rib! Then she pushed my father forward, he himed and hawed for a bit. Finally he apologized."

"I think he probably only did it for my mom, at first. I was so happy to see them that I took them inside and showed them a shoebox full of money that I had been saving. My father isn't usually a man of many words, but he said something that day that I will never forget, 'I guess you proved that you can be an adult. From now on you can make your own decisions and even if I'm not happy with them I won't interfere.' And even though I'm a bit old to be an undergraduate, I'm happier here than I would ever have been staying at the ranch."

He twiddled his fingers around for a moment, "Thing is, you've got to prove to your Aunt that you can be an adult. So don't answer her call. Listen to her message if she leaves one, and call her back when you have the time. The world won't end, and you'll be happier."

Anne's eyes had teared up a bit as she listened to him, effectively pouring out his soul to her. He handed the phone back to her. Deliberately, she turned the phone off and pushed it back into her purse.

It wasn't like Will Darcy was going out his way to run into her, though that's not how Elizabeth interpreted things. It had been a tough week, her first test in Dissection had not gone well. Emma was having some major drama.

And now it seemed that wherever she went, Will Darcy was! He would always keep his distance, never approach, as if he knew that was what she wanted. But there was something in his eye that reminded her of the time they had met at Five Guys. Like he was actively judging her. And harshly too. She found herself often rubbing surreptitiously at her nose, wondering if she had a spot of ketchup on it again or something.

Finally she'd had enough when he cornered her in her favorite tucked-away seat on the 2th floor of the Morgan Library. No one came _there_ unless they needed to. And it was obvious by the way he was looking at her, he didn't _need_ to be here.

"Well hello Will," the words were courteous but the tone was not.

He gobbled for a moment.

"Doing some research then?"

"Uh, yes!" He managed to spit out.

"Germans from Russia eh? I thought Darcy was French?" She raised a solitary eyebrow at him.

His head jerked around him looking at the archives on either side of him, "Oh is that?…I just…oh…"

She smiled softly at him. He mistook that smile, and plopped down into the seat beside her, "Do you come here a lot?"

That sounded very much like a pick-up line? Was it a pick-up line? What kind of game was he playing, "No," her eyes twinkled even through her lie, "I don't come here often. Do you?"

"Are you hitting on me?"

Her head flew back and she just held off grinding her teeth in annoyance, "Excuse me? Am I what?"

"'Do you come here often?' It's that pick-up line." Something about his face was really disturbing now!

"You said it first," she insisted.

He frowned, "No I didn't. I was just making conversation. You were…" he waved a finger at her… "You were doing something else."

She shook her head, "Wow." _Completely surreal._

"What?" he was suspicious.

"No, just wow! With that much ego crammed into you, you should be taller."

His eyes narrowed. She had never so blatantly insulted him before, "I am Will Darcy." He finally said.

She turned away again, pressing her lips together to stop from laughing out loud at such arrogant pride. What a piece of…well a piece of something, but she wouldn't say what.

If she didn't live with Emma, she would probably have already lost her temper. What Will Darcy and Emma Woodhouse both needed was to be brought down a peg or two. She had already given up on Emma. Especially after today.

But Will Darcy? THE Will Darcy? He was prime for the picking, "Well good for you!" She slapped him on the arm, rather roughly too, he thought, "It is a beautiful name is it? A very powerful name I assume. Will Daarccccy. Rolls right off the tongue. With the right emphasis, Willll Darrrcy it could even promote fear and envy. Wwwwillll Dahrceee. Yes, it is very nice." She nodded at him. If he'd known her better he would have already assumed the fetal position. "Very nice," she practically spat at him. "And soon you'll be one of the most powerful men in the world. Am I right?"

He nodded, but it was a tiny motion because she was starting to make him uncomfortable, "Among the thousands of other rich pompous men, all of you looking for a way to discredit each other, climb over the competition, like a bunch of farrow pigs after a bone. Charming future really." And then the coup de grace,

"Eventually though, probably sooner than you would like or expect, you'll be in a _small_ wooden box under a _large_ concrete tombstone and _fertilizing_ the daisies, and it will read, 'He used to be important once, if only we could remember his name!'"

She got to her feet, nearly braining him as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, "And just so you know, perhaps the only reason you're getting asked," she deepened her voice to a decent imitation of the male drawl, "'If you come here often' is because other people, namely me, are trying to avoid ever meeting you again!"

See? A bad day…

* * *

**I have a new reviewer from Sudan-So exciting!**

**And I've kept an insomniac interested! I **_**am**_** a better read than the dictionary. Alright.**


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